


Five Times Aziraphale Saved Crowley +1

by DarkmoonSigel



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Anxious Crowley (Good Omens), Awkward Sexual Situations, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale's True Form (Good Omens), BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Badass Aziraphale, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley's True Form (Good Omens), Double Penetration, F/F, F/M, Female Crowley (Good Omens), Female-Presenting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Female-Presenting Crowley (Good Omens), First Time, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Historical, Hurt, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Middle Ages, Naga, Oral Sex, Possessive Crowley, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Religious Cults, Romance, Sex, Sex Toys, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Snakes and lizards have not just one, The Ark, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Versailles - Freeform, Victorian, Wing Grooming, Wing Kink, Wingfic, Wings, but two penises, crowley is a snake, fashion - Freeform, so snakes have two penises, this time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-01-23 23:54:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21328795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkmoonSigel/pseuds/DarkmoonSigel
Summary: Five times in history that Aziraphale saved Crowley...and sex.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 137
Kudos: 878
Collections: Courts GO Re-Reads, Gomens Favs





	1. If it’s not Baroque, don’t fix it

**Author's Note:**

> Panniers are awful, and the fashion of Versailles was insane. 
> 
> My recovery is going well. My doctor did have to sit me down, and tell me to not worry about losing weight just yet. She was like “umm...you’re still recovering from severe anemia, you recently had some major surgery, and you almost died a few times years so you need to be patient with your body.”
> 
> I was like “oh crap, you’re right, especially when you put it like that.”
> 
> Got to cut the bod some slack. It’s doing its best.

In Crowley’s opinion, Versailles was like a painted egg left out in the sun for too long. Beautiful to look at on the outside, but rotten to its core. The French had invented over 1,500 different kinds of cheese, but no one seemed to have bothered tinkering with the idea of indoor plumbing. 

The palace of Versailles reeked of shit, piss, vomit, and unwashed bodies, layered with a nauseating amount of perfume. The servants could only do so much as the nobility relieved themselves in any convenient corner, and overindulged themselves with too much wine and rich food to the point of purging so that they could do it all over again. 

Crowley remembered the Egyptians and their love for personal hygiene and cleanliness. The demon longed for that to become fashionable again instead of seeing how many decorative accessories one could physically carry upon their person, and not tip over. There were women here with elaborate Poufs with all manners of things placed upon in and upon the headdresses, decorated with pearls, jewels, flowers, and even tiny boats to name a few. Poufs that were also filled with parasites, spiders, and even small vermin, so pretty to look at while actively decaying from within. 

Crowley was dressed for this event of so many sins in latest fashion, a great monstrosity of a dress in red silk and black velvet with wide panniers and tons of drapery. A wealth of rubies and black diamonds dripped off of the fabric with accenting golden cords. 

The demon had arranged her hairstyle with a Pouf of her own, vermin free...not that she had anything against mice or rats, decorating it with black plumes, and a small bouquet of red roses in the centre. Her hair and face were properly powdered, her cheeks and lips touched with rouge, and her eyes rimmed with kohl, not that anyone could really see them behind her dark glasses. 

Crowley happened to like makeup, was a big fan of it, but she despised the powder, especially the amount that had to be placed in her hair to make it white. It made her scalp itch, and her skin crawl. It was going to take forever to get out if she didn’t miracle it away. Crowley preferred to wash her hair the human way, finding it relaxing, but that wasn’t going to happen tonight. 

More jewels of rubies and black diamond were held in place by an astonishingly grotesque amount of gold accented Crowley’s ears, neck, and both wrists. If she were human, Crowley’s flesh would be decorated with all sorts of bruises to go along with all that jewelry. As it was, she was just uncomfortable, but Crowley had to make sure the Count she was supposed to be tempting noticed her. In a sea of pastels, Crowley knew that she most definitely the belle of the ball in her red and black attire. 

Crowley was going to make sure there was a special place in Hell for whoever created panniers. Oh, how Crowley loathed panniers. Women’s undergarments for this century extended the width of the skirts at the sides while leaving the front and back relatively flat. 

It was completely frivolous. The pannier’s sole purpose was to advertise how wealthy its wearer was. The space provided by it was often heavily decorated with rich embroidery, jewels, and whatever else rich things they could come up with. To say the least, it was obnoxious. Crowley was rail thin, and yet she had to turn sidewise to get in through some doors. 

In Crowley’s opinion, the height of Versailles fashion and etiquette was its own version of Hell. If the nobility weren’t careful, Satan would send someone to strike them down. The Devil didn’t like competition. 

From the intel the rats had collected for her, the Count was supposed to be dressed in a coat and breeches made of a lilac-coloured silk fabric. The color represented that he was a knight of the Order of the Holy Spirit, a member of the King’s order. 

While women’s fashion at court became more elaborate with each passing day, every noblewomen trying to outdo the other, the men’s fashion was far more understated in design. Wealth was reflected from it through the materials it was made of, which was typically silk, satin, and velvet these grand days. Color played a very important role as well, signifying rank, or if they belonged to an order.

The fashion rules of Versailles were complicated, completely unnecessary, and utterly ridiculous. It was purely a display of greed, pride, envy, and hubris. Crowley, of course, took credit for creating all of it. 

Navigating through any space in that boat of a dress was a test of patience, something that Crowley didn’t have very much in abundance to begin with. She wanted to quickly find this little idiot Count who had gotten Hell’s attention to get this temptation over with already. Crowley wanted desperately to get back into men’s fashion as soon as possible, at least until women’s clothing calmed the fuck down. 

So far, Crowley wasn’t have the best of luck with it. She had been hoping that the Count would come to her, the demon parading herself around as the richest new noblewoman at this party, one who was also single and mysterious. The Count should have been on her like stink on shit, but alas, after hours of dull small talk and subtle inquiries to his whereabouts, there was still no Count.

It seemed like everyone else in creation wanted to chat her up, Crowley having an unwelcome entourage anywhere she went, but it was beginning to look like she would have to walk the rooms to find him. It was a prospect she did not enjoy considering, much less executing, but it was that, or keep fending off more banal conversation from her clueless suitors, truly vapid fake people destined for the Pit.

“Bloody hell. Let’s get this over with.” Crowley muttered to herself as she tapped people on their shoulders with her fan to make them move out of her way, harder than she had to at times. It helped that the fan was heavy as everything else on her, made from gold, silk, and more jewels. 

Her feet were already sore. Crowley was going to reserve another room in Hell for whoever created these ridiculous high heeled shoes. Balancing on two legs was hard enough. Crowley didn't see the point of complicating it further with stilts built into shoes meant only for the heels. She did make a mental note though to take credit for them. 

Gravity wasn’t Crowley’s friend at the best of times, the demon mocking it with every jagged strut she took on this earth. So when gravity could get back at Crowley, it did so with a vengeance. In this instance, gravity used a lovely combination of terrible shoes, blind spots provided by the ridiculous dress, and a convenient set of stairs. 

It was too far to reach for the banister, and it wouldn’t have mattered anyway, all thanks to the damnably wide panniers. Crowley felt herself tipping over as she failed to notice the stairs were closer to her than she had first presumed. She knew immediately that it was going to hurt when she landed. There were simply too many people around to freeze time, and a miracle would be noticed. 

Out of options, Crowley made peace that she was going to have to eat shit this time for the sake of the assignment. Even if someone did manage to come to Crowley’s aid in time, humans simply lacked the strength to haul her back up, or catch her due to all the excessive gold and other decorations she was wearing. 

Holy Hell, the only reason she could even move around in it was because she was a demon. On the plus side, the Crowley reasoned that maybe this would get the Count’s attention if the fall didn’t discorporate her. 

Except that didn’t happen, someone quickly running up the stairs, perhaps a touch too supernaturally fast and unhindered, people miraculously moving out of the way in time. Crowley was upright and steadied by an inhuman strength that could have only come from one being. 

Aziraphale was dressed in a beautifully embroidered silk coat and breeches made of a sky blue-colored silk fabric, lace pouring out of his sleeve ends and collar like escaping clouds. The gleaming white shirt and gold satin waistcoat gave the angel a radiant air, not that he needed it. 

The outfit ended with some snow white stockings, and shiniest embroidered, bejeweled gold velvet shoes Crowley had ever seen, and that was saying something, considering it was Versailles. The matching silk hat with gold satin trim was decorated the most sumptuous white plumes in the entire ballroom, even putting the king’s own to shame. Crowley strongly suspected that they came from the angel’s very own wings. 

Going against the grain, Aziraphale had left his face and hair unpowdered, not that those already white curls needed it, and he only had the lightest bit of rouge and kohl applied to accent his lips, cheeks, and eyes. 

Caught staring, Crowley quickly snapped open her fan to hide her face, grateful there were so many barriers in place to hide her blush. For lack of a better word, Aziraphale looked divine in his fashionable attire, Heaven translated into clothing. It suited the angel well.

“My word, dear lady, you’ve had a bit of a fright. Are you well?” Aziraphale said after he made a great show of bowing to her, hat whipped off of his head and everything. There was even a twinkle in his eye, the bastard.

Crowley knew straightaway that the angel had used a miracle because his French was flawless. While Crowley had a gift for speaking languages, Aziraphale’s own was more aligned with the written word. To the point, if they went to China, Crowley could ask the locals for directions like he had been born there while Aziraphale could fluently read the street and store signs without using their powers.

“Thank you, good sir.” Crowley said, all pomp and circumstance in return. “I am, all due to your timely valiant efforts.”

“Perhaps you would like to retire to a seat to rest your delicate female sensibilities, and have a glass of champagne with me. I have found that good company and conversation can act like a calming balm for one’s nerves after something so traumatic.” Aziraphale said, already taking Crowley’s hand into his own, and placing the other at the small of the demon’s back, sending a tingle up Crowley’s spine.

Crowley considered briefly hitting the angel with his fan for treating her like she was some fragile hothouse flower, but decided against it. They both had to play their parts, and the angel’s touch with light and warm, and not entirely unwelcome. Quite the opposite really, Crowley once again incredibly grateful that her face was so heavily powdered. 

After procuring a bottle of champagne, some glasses, and plate of food to share, Aziraphale got them situated in a clean corner that the rest of the party miraculously seemed to be ignoring. Crowley was just fine with that. She needed to vent. 

“What brings you to this sordid little affair, angel? The majority of the bourgeoisie and nobility are already destined for Hell for living in such excess at the expense of others, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg.” Crowley asked, accepting the glass of champagne as she considered the nibbles. It was as dramatic and pompous as the fashion. No one needed to eat hummingbirds, yet here they were, stuffed with cheese, and cooked in herbs and butter. “Unless you’re about to pull off one Heaven of a miracle, I don’t think a few good deeds is going to cut it this time with this crowd.”

“I would if I could.” Aziraphale sighed into his own glass of bubbly. “The people are starving.”

“And yet, here you are, dressed in the height of fashion, while they do, eating ridiculous appetizers.” Crowley pointed out, arching a brow at her splendidly dressed counterpart. 

“What else would have me wear to court? You know we have to blend in here, and it’s not like I’m here for my own pleasure.” Aziraphale said crossly, pushing the plate away. He finished his glass of champagne in record time, collecting his hat to leave. “Do help yourself. I’ve lost my appetite.”

“Calm down, angel. I was only teasing.” Crowley said in her most soothing tone, gloved hand darting out to catch Aziraphale’s wrist. She thanked someone as the angel stilled under her touch. “I’m very uncomfortable right now so I’m a bit tetchy. This outfit is Hell incarnate via fashion.”

Crowley really didn’t want to make the angel leave her here in a huff, the demon tugging on Aziraphale’s hand to keep him with her. The thought of the angel avoiding her, for God knows how long, wasn’t a pleasant one. He’d done it before, they both had, when they got into a tiff. “Sit. Have a stuffed date. You love those, and they’ve even wrapped them in bacon this time. Will wonders never cease?”

“They do look scrumptious.” Aziraphale said, reconsidering the appetite. He had put together an excellent plate of delectable delicacies for them to share, only the very best of what Versailles had to offer. 

“I promise to behave.” Crowley said as she kissed the angel’s knuckles in apology. The press of her lips was enough to make the last Aziraphale’s resolve buckle, visibly affected by it. 

“Why start now, you wily old serpent?” Aziraphale sighed, retaking his hand and his seat. Crowley let out the breathe she didn’t realize that she had been holding.

The most tender bits of pheasant, fresh oysters, Petit pâté en croûte à la bourgeoise picked out especially by the angel for Crowley’s palette, Lobster aspic chaud-froi, beef madrilène with gold leaf spangles, and wild duck cromesquis à la Villeroy were just a few items on the extensive menu. Aziraphale had picked out only the best for them, like he always did.

“I’m supposed to be opening my shop.” Aziraphale sighed for various reasons as he considered the duck, but mostly in pleasure. 

“What are you going on about now?” Crowley asked, trying the foul based on that critique. She agreed with the angel’s assessment of it, the meat fall-apart tender and perfectly seasoned.

“Haven’t I told you? I’ve decided to open up a bookshop in London.” Aziraphale said, shooting back an oyster.

“Any good that?” Crowley nodded at the empty shell as she processed the angel’s news.

“Not bad. We’ve had better. They remind me of the ones we had that time in Portugal.” Aziraphale said, offering the demon one to try to be waved off. Crowley was too busy enjoying the pâté to be bothered. 

“Which time? Before or after my pirate phase?” 

“Before, dear.”

“I think I would have remembered you mentioning a bookshop of all things.” Crowley said, “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“Afraid not. Turns out my Principality station has been in London all along, so it’s time for me to set up shop there, figuratively and literally in this case.” Aziraphale said, “I’ve already bought the building and everything.”

“You do realize that this isn’t like a library, right? The books won’t come back to you after they’ve been off vacationing.” Crowley felt the need to point out. Aziraphale had been inspiring humans to build libraries for millennia, just so he would have places to store all his books. He was still very cross about the one in Alexandria burning down. 

“I do know how all this works.” Aziraphale said, ignoring the nagging feeling that the demon might be little right.

“I really don’t think you do.” Crowley said, snagging a stuffed hard boiled egg to nibble on it. “Why are you bothering with this?

“As the humans would say, I’m putting down roots.” Aziraphale said, topping off their champagne to kill the bottle. He traded it out for a full one from a very confused servant who was suddenly holding a very empty bottle.

“Tumbleweeds have roots, but you don’t see them standing still.”

“I should hope not with a name like that.” Aziraphale said dryly, “Where do you find those?”

“On the far side of the Continent, in the drier parts of it.”

“And why were you over there?”

“Oh, I just popped over to see what all the fuss was about. Loads of things to look at in the Americas. There is even a very grand canyon that you would like, somewhere in the middle-ish part.”

“I wonder what the humans shall name it. They’re rather good at naming things.” Aziraphale said. Sometime in the future, the angel was going to have a ‘well, they’re not wrong’ moment of disappointment about the famous canyon that Crowley was talking about. It was, indeed, very grand.

“What does upstairs have to say about becoming a business owner?”

“I’m expected to blend in. From what I understand, humans working in retail are considered to be unnoticeable.” 

“When you get settled in, you’ll have to pop over to see my flat.” Crowley decided right there and then that there would be a flat waiting for her in London, and there was. It would be close enough to the bookshop so that Crowley could ‘casually’ pop in whenever she felt like it, but not too close to raise suspicion from either side. “I can’t have my clever adversary having unlimited access to such an important city as London, now can I?”

“I suppose not. Vice versa, and all that.“ Aziraphale said, ending that with a sigh. “I just have so much left to do.”

“And you think I want to be here in this getup either?” Crowley said more crossly than she actually felt, still reeling from the news that the angel would be mostly stationary soon. That she could find Aziraphale simply any time she wanted to instead of waiting for these chance meetings, or the occasional clandestine Arrangement invitation.

“I think you look quite lovely in it.” Aziraphale said as the angel looked the demon up and down in a way that warmed Crowley from within. It was a very loaded look that she was used to getting from humans, but never from Aziraphale. “Very striking.”

“That’s the point. I’m trying to get this Count’s attention for a temptation, but I can’t seem to find the idiot.” Crowley reminded herself about the powder as her cheeks grew hot.

“Which Count, if you don’t mind me asking?” 

“The Count of Angiviller. He was recently made the Director General of Buildings, Arts, Gardens and Manufactures of France. He’s made Hell have use for him.” 

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry, dear, but I’ve already thwarted your wiles without even meaning to.” Aziraphale looked all too pleased with himself. “Heaven has taken notice of him as well, and sent me to inspire him. I’m afraid he’s not coming to this party, or any other party for a long while. I caught him on his way in, and had a few necessary words with the old boy. That’s why you haven't seen hide or hair of him.” 

“So I’ve been lugging around this whale of a dress, and almost broke my neck, all for nothing?” Crowley groaned, dramatically flopping back in her chair to massage her temples. The damn Pouf was giving her a headache as well as a crick in her neck. The heavy jewelry wasn’t helping in that area either.

“Afraid so.” Aziraphale smiled, the expression edging on smirk. Crowley made a face back, reaching over to pick up the angel’s hat from off the table. Inspecting the feathers, Crowley found her earlier assessment about their angelic origin had been correct.

“You know vanity is a sin.” Crowley said, bringing the snow white feathers to her face to scent them. She was tired of this odorous affair going on all around then. The feather’s fragrance were a welcome reprieve. Aziraphale smelled sweet, all angels did, but he also smelled like leather, dust, tea, and rich wet earth. 

“I like to think that I saved some poor bird from being robbed.” Aziraphale said softly in return, obviously distracted by the demon scenting his plumage. Crowley’s own smile began to toe the line of smirking.

“You and your halos. Did you mean to do that with the trim, or is it just unintentional celestial influence upon your tailor?” Crowley wondered aloud as she considered keeping the feathers for her own, especially if it kept Aziraphale looking at her like that. 

The angel preferred to have his clothing made instead miracled into existence. He claimed that it helped the craftsmen by giving them practice and income. Crowley definitely believed the last part. The angel hadn’t gone cheap on his attire in centuries. 

“Heavens, no!” Aziraphale said, leaving off his staring to examine the rest of his clothing. Crowley tried not to feel too disappointed by that, but it did give her the opportunity to nick one of the smaller feathers. The demon shoved it down her bodice before the angel had a chance to notice. “I’m afraid to admit that I didn’t even notice that bit of detailing. Oh my, there are little suns embroidered on this vest.”

“Speaking of Heaven, have you gotten any rude notes about your clothing budget yet?”

“Actually, clothing is one of the few things they like, Gabriel in particular.”

“Really? The archangel is a clothes horse? That alone has almost made it worth coming here.” Crowley cackled, helping herself to some more hummingbird. The angel was busy polishing off some pastry nibbles that the demon couldn’t be bothered with. 

“I can make it up to you by helping you get all that awful powder out of your lovely hair. Dreadful stuff.” Aziraphale said, topping off their glasses to finish the bottle. “Or we can stay here if you have any other pressing business.”

“I’ve been trying not to claw at my scalp all evening.” Crowley admitted with a sigh. “As for the rest, no, we can be done here. Be the angel you are, and help me up. Transitioning from sitting to standing is a real chore in this rubbish. All the gold isn’t helping my balance either.”

“I assume the powder is one of yours?” Aziraphale asked as he offered her the crook of his arm to easily pull the demon to her feet, and keep her there.

“Nah. The humans came up with it all on their own. I swear the whole lot of them are masochists.” Crowley grumbled. Now that she was moving again, her feet reminded the demon that they were very unhappy. Crowley chugged the last of the champagne in an attempt to momentarily appease them. 

“In this instance, I’m inclined to agree with you.” Aziraphale said, finishing off his glass. Crowley grabbed a new bottle to take with them from a well timed, passing servant who didn’t notice a thing. It earned her a Look from the angel. “Oh, don’t start. Demon, remember? Anyway, your place, or mine? Which is closer this time? I have a room here at Versailles. Forgot which wing it is in though.”

“As do I. There’s already a hot bath ready for you there.” Aziraphale said, offering his hand for her to take. The damnable panniers made it impossible for the angel to offer more of his arm, Aziraphale having to stand in front as he led Crowley to his room. The pair left unhindered and unnoticed, the party goers parting like a sea for them. 

“You win. That sounds amazing right now. My feet feel like they are about to fall off out of spite.” Crowley winced, gratefully accepting the help as she used the angel for balance. Her toes were rioting.

“We can’t be haven’t that, now can we?” Aziraphale said as they navigated the great expanse of Versailles. “I would offer to pick you up, but I’m not sure how to. You’re currently a rather awkward shape.”

“Don’t I know it! I had to turn sideways earlier to go through a door! Me!” Crowley complained to distract herself as they navigated Versailles to find Aziraphale’s room. It took longer than Crowley’s feet wanted, to the point she almost gave up on being bipedal entirely. Only Aziraphale’s presence and the promise of sweet hot reprieve kept Crowley from being becoming a serpent again.

The bathtub was a miracle, literally, in size and depth, the water releasing tantalizing wisps of steam that smelled like vanilla and lavender. Her reprieve finally in sight, Crowley was about to snap off everything to dive right in. She was until Aziraphale touched the back of her neck, making Crowley grow incredibly still, the demon forgetting to even breathe. 

“Allow me to help you out of all this.” Aziraphale said as he started relieve her of all the heavy jewelry. It fell heavily to the ground, sounding more like chains than finery when it hit the marble. 

“May I?” Aziraphale asked in a low strange voice, still standing behind Crowley. The demon wanted to see his face, wanted to know what was happening, how far Aziraphale was willing to take this. 

“You may.” Crowley heard herself answer, just as soft. Aziraphale easily navigated the complicated outfit with all its clasps and bindings. His touch was almost reverent, and so achingly gentle.

Crowley was grateful for the angel’s skill as the bindings came undone far quicker than she would have managed. The demon was more used to snapping in and out of her own clothing. 

Since this assignment had been so important, Crowley had had the dress made so it would comply with the ridiculous rules of courts. She had planned to shred the abominable thing with her bare hands, had been looking forward to it, but this was turning out to be so much better.

The outer shell of the outfit finally fell away, the angel offering his hand to help Crowley step out of it. Now they just had to deal with layers and layers of ridiculous undergarments. 

“I must say, my dear, that I don’t think I care very much for this century’s fashion for women.” Aziraphale said, working on the hated panniers.

“I was thinking the exact same thing earlier.” 

“What are these?”

“Panniers. I’m going to track down the bastard who created them, and make them regret it for the rest of eternity.” Crowley said, letting out a sigh of relief as the last of it fell away. 

“They can’t say that they didn’t bring it upon themselves.” Aziraphale nodded in agreement. “Ghastly things.”

“I’m definitely sticking with a cock until they come up with something that’s more easy breezy to get in and out of. It took three servants alone to dress me.” Crowley said as she assessed her current body. 

Crowley’s female form was just as slender as her male form. It was just sharper in different places. Her hair was long, the curls of it hanging down past her waist, not that anyone would know that in its current predicament. Her breasts were barely there, delicate and well shaped. Her small pink nipples were already beginning to pebble from the chill coming off all the marble. The fireplace could only doing so much.

“Shame. You’re very beautiful like this. I mean, you always are...” Aziraphale started to say, trailing off as something floated to the floor. 

Crowley groaned inwardly, too distracted by the angel’s soft touches that she had forgotten all about the stolen feather. She didn’t know what kind of reaction she expected from Aziraphale, but the sudden press of lips had not been in her top ten guesses. 

It wasn’t much of a kiss, more a grazing of skin than anything. They’d had deeper in the past, Rome springing immediately to Crowley’s mind. They had been full of oysters, and delightfully drunk on wine. They had gone to the baths together afterward. There Crowley had mounted Aziraphale from behind, and the angel had let him. Findings it quite enjoyable, Aziraphale had returned the favor. 

But this didn’t feel like Rome, or any other time before or after that. This was a new night of sorts. 

“I would have given you it.” Aziraphale was standing too close to not be touching her more, so close she could feel the heat coming off of him, but the angel held himself back. Crowley readied herself for disappointment. They both knew that they could only take this so far. 

“What else would you give me? What if I want more than one measly feather?” Crowley pushed ever so gently. She knew what would happen if she rushed this, or if her push turned into a shove. 

“For one night, I’ll give you whatever you’re willing to accept. All you have to do is allow it.” Aziraphale said, “Let me do what I was created to do with you.”

“Angel...” Crowley started to say, Aziraphale’s fingers placed to her lips, ending whatever she had been planning to say. 

“You know that they are quick with their complaints, but not with their compliments. We’ll be as safe as we’ll ever be tonight.” Aziraphale said, glancing upward as if Crowley didn’t know to who or what he was referring. They both knew that the angel would receive more than a warning if Heaven caught Aziraphale here like this with a demon.

“Maybe I should let you thwart my wiles more often then.” Crowley was shooting for flippant, but her words came out too soft and breathy for that. 

“Allow me?” Aziraphale asked this time. Crowley nodded after a moment, unsure to what she agreeing to, and not really caring at the moment at all about it. 

Apparently, what Aziraphale desired to do was gently pick the demon up, gathering Crowley up into his arms like some bride on her honeymoon. He just as gently placed Crowley into the tub, the demon moaning as she sank into the perfectly heated water. The tub molded itself to her so that she could comfortably sit up while still being submerged up to her neck. 

Miracling a washcloth into existence, Aziraphale wet it to start wiping away the makeup from Crowley’s face. The demon leaned into the tenderness of it, Aziraphale’s other hand cupping her cheek. The angel didn’t rush, doing a good job of it. When Crowley’s face was completely free of makeup, Aziraphale finished the treatment with a cold cream that smelled faintly of honey and roses.

“Lean your head back to I can take care of your hair.” Aziraphale said, Crowley quickly complying. The angel patiently worked the Pouf off of Crowley head, the fake parts of it pinned, sewn, and glued in place. 

It was a process, but it gave Crowley time to think, which could get dangerous when it was left like that on its own. 

“If you had already inspired the Count, why did you stay?” Crowley asked as the too many gears in her head turned. 

“Because I saw you arrive, and I couldn’t bear to take my eyes off of you just yet.” Aziraphale said, “And it’s a very good thing I let you tempt me into doing so. That would have been a very nasty fall.”

The angel finally freed Crowley’s hair from the Poof, the demon sighing in relief again as the weight was removed from her head. Just hot enough water was poured over the stained curls until white bled red, Aziraphale meticulously working out the powder with scented oil and a finely toothed comb. It was as close to Heaven as Crowley was ever going to get again, the demon not bothered to hold back her moans of pleasure. 

“What can I do for you next, my dear one?” Aziraphale asked, his breathe so close it make Crowley shiver as he spilled her long hair into the bath. It looked like blood in the water, pooled around Crowley. 

“My feet.” Crowley croaked out, holding one abused foot out of the water.

“Of course.” Aziraphale moved the end of the tub to attend.

“I think you would do a better job of it if you joined me.” Crowley made her tongue work. 

“As you wish.” Was all Aziraphale said as he began to undress, letting his own layers fall away. He retrieved the champagne before climbing in, the tub adjusting in size and shape to accommodate him as well.

They had seen each other naked many times before. The Greeks had had a deep appreciation for the human form, and enough warm weather to show it off unadorned.

Aziraphale had a beautiful cock. He had made it for himself during the time of the Greeks, and Crowley had a special place in her dark heart for them for that. It hung thick and long against his thigh, almost getting to the point where it could perk up to greet Crowley all on its own. 

Crowley desired to have it in her as quickly as possible, but they weren’t rushing things right now. There would be lack of time for that later. They were savoring every moment of this rare night, whatever this was. Something had struck a cord in Aziraphale, the angel never this forward, this reckless, this kind of brave. 

A mind made for questions, Crowley tried to think of what could have moved Aziraphale to this point. It wasn’t like the angel had never seen her female presenting form before, and though the angel appreciated aesthetics, Aziraphale didn’t give a damn about gender, or where parts were.

Drinking very nice champagne straight from the bottle, Crowley debated on whether or not to question the angel, to risk upsetting this evening. The answer to that was a resounding ‘no’, Aziraphale finding her feet, pressing healing hands to them in a way that made her make inhuman, literally in her case, noises of pleasure. 

Screw it, the demon decided, the angel could do whatever the Hell he wanted to her as long he to kept Crowley grateful for bothering with feet. If she could crystallize moments, this would be one of them. So, of course, Crowley’s active mind had to go and ruin it. 

Aziraphale’s touches had slowed, becoming more exploratory. It still felt wonderful as the angel traced her foot’s structure with his fingertips, pressing kisses to the sharp thing that was her ankle. Aziraphale’s gaze upon her and all his touches almost seemed reverent to her. 

Stomach plummeting, Crowley realized that they were reverent. Aziraphale, Principality, the former guardian of Eden was serving her, worshiping her with every touch, word, and deed. Angels were made to serve, that was their sole purpose of existence after all, but they weren’t meant to do so for others. 

“Stop!” Crowley yanking her feet back. She curled in on herself, coiled as the snake she was deep down.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Aziraphale blinked back in surprise. Thankfully, he made no further move to touch her. 

“No.” Crowley snapped, looking away. She couldn’t bear to see the wide eyes and hurt look on the angel’s face. 

“Then why?” Aziraphale pleaded, breaking Crowley’s heart even further apart. “Crowley, please...

“You’ll fall! You’ll fall, and it will be all my fault!“ Crowley yelled, turning back around with every intention to be as awful as possible for Aziraphale’s sake. “I know that look, you stupid angel! I’ve worn it myself when I was with Her! If you keeping looking at me like that, you will fall, and I will never forgive either of us if you do!”

Crowley only stopped ranting because Aziraphale was giving her the most unimpressed Look back, the kind of look that only Aziraphale could manage, having practiced millennia in the making of it. It quietly told her that she was being a phenomenal idiot, and to please stop for air. 

“While you can be very persuasive, I do believe that isn’t your decision, my dear.” Aziraphale told her in an utterly calm tone, like she was the one being ridiculous.

“I am being serious here!” Crowley yelled back, clearly not done. 

“So am I. If I were to Fall, tonight wouldn’t even be in the first five top reasons.” The First Liar, he who was nary a flaming sword, pointed out. He who had failed in his duty to keep the Apple safe, and who had been kind to the banished, an angel who had an Arrangement with a demon. Considering that their Creator was omniscient, Crowley had to admit that Aziraphale had a good point. 

Aziraphale giving her space and time to do so, Crowley reasoned out for herself that at this point, them having sex would be like pissing in the ocean. The problem was that it didn’t feel like a casual ‘haven’t seen you a century or two’ kind of fuck. Crowley didn’t know if she was ready for that to change, but was too curious for her own good to make it stop either.

“You keep dancing with devils, you’ll get burned.” Crowley found herself relaxing despite not really wanting to just yet. She didn’t want to let go of her anger and fear right now, but they were hard things to hold onto when Aziraphale was being so soft, and inviting, and in the such rare state of unbothered. That Count must have been a big ticket item for Heaven if her angel felt confident enough to be here right now, doing something so intimate with her. 

“I guess it’s a good thing that angels don’t dance then.” Aziraphale said, smiling at his own wit. He reached for Crowley, pulling her coiled form to him so that her back rested against his front, the angel’s cock almost where she really desired it to be. It was already beginning to meet her halfway all on its own. 

“You always did have a clever tongue.” Crowley admitted, knowing that the angel couldn’t see her fond smile. 

“I’ve never heard you complain about it.” Aziraphale mumbled the words against the demon’s skin, the angel too busy devoting kisses to the back of Crowley’s neck as he rubbed the last of the hurt out of her shoulders.

“Shut up.” Crowley said with no heat to it, melting into the massage. It was her own fault for falling for a bibliophile, especially one who had his very own unique snake charming act. The demon untucked her limbs, Aziraphale filling the gaps left between with his own. One hand trailed light fingertips across her chest, Crowley’s breathe tripping up in her throat as sensitive nipples were at first grazed, then explored, reddening that soft pink.

Bending a knee, Aziraphale used it to nudge her thighs apart, keeping the knee there so they stayed like that. His other hand was just as busy, settling in between to find her slit, just as clever fingers pressing past the folds of it they found there. Aziraphale took his time working his fingers in and out of her, his thumb busy circling her clit.

Reaching behind her, Crowley sunk her fingers into snowy curls, holding the angel in place so that she could kiss him for as long and as deep as she wanted to. His prick was making that loveliest Effort, nestled between her butt cheeks. She pressed against it, hoping to entice Aziraphale into more immediate action.

“Aziraphale, fuck me already!” Crowley begged. She wasn’t above begging, at least when it came down to Aziraphale.

“Maybe I want to hold you like this? I wonder how many times I can make you tremble around my fingers, how many more I could slip into you?” Aziraphale said, adding another finger easily in her as his other hand began to gently pinch her nipples, trading off between. They both knew that he was just enough of a bastard to follow through with his threat.

They also both knew from experience that Crowley was quicker, but Aziraphale was the stronger of the two. If anyone could keep Crowley in place, it was her angel.

“Please, please, please...” Crowley was begging for real this time, trading in pride for lust. She was beginning to ache in the loveliest way down there. “You can take me anyway you want, but you need to do it now!”

“As you wish.” Aziraphale said in her ear, in the deep voice he rarely used, the one that sent shivers up and down her spine, and things inside her clutch. “Stop breathing.”

Before Crowley could ask why, Aziraphale pulled them under, the tub expanding to accommodate so that they floated weightless in the middle of it.

Though he would never voice it, Crowley knew that Aziraphale loved her hair this long. Completely submerged, it surrounded her like an aura. Aziraphale had his own little aura going on, the angel literally glowing with love. 

“Careful, angel. Don’t go blessing the water by accident.” Crowley thought really hard at him. Water was a painful bitch to get out of the lungs. It was a joke, of course, but Aziraphale’s reaction was all too serious, the angel’s wings pulled from the ether into this plane. They curved forward to capture Crowley, essentially cocooning them together. Instinctually, the demon brought her own out as well, their wings meshing together so that not an inch of their skin was visible, which was the point.

Angels couldn’t risk being vulnerable, even when they were mating. Crowley’s mind had always been fast. She understand the bath now. Crowley remembered angels were meant to make love on the fly, literally, the deed usually done while airborne. The mating angels would then combine their essences together to form an unbreakable bond. It was one of the few things she cared to remember about Heaven. 

Obviously that wasn’t in the cards for them, so the clever angel had come up with the next best thing. Heaven and Hell would notice if they married their beings together. Their human bodies would have to do that for them. It would be their own version of mating. 

Hidden behind their wall of feathers, Crowley hooked her long legs around Aziraphale’s soft waist, locking him in with her bony ankles. The angel’s hands found her ass, guiding her downward until she was fully seated against him. Crowley groaned in relief, Aziraphale finally where she wanted him most, stretching her open to fill the demon to her brim. 

They fit together so perfectly that it would be their ruin if they weren’t careful. Aziraphale knew it. Crowley knew it. It broke both their hearts in different ways. Tonight though, they had enough time not to think about it, but not enough time to dwell either. 

“I read something very wise recently. It was about a bird falling in love with a fish.” Aziraphale said after snapping the water out of space between them in their makeshift submergible. 

“Your foreplay needs work.” Crowley groaned, wanting a faster pace, but Aziraphale’s hands firmly held her to the pace he desired, which were slow, deep thrusts that made Crowley writhe against the steadfast angel.

“You’re one to talk. Babylon springs to mind.” Aziraphale murmured into her collarbones, gracing the fine bones and skin there with kisses that marked the demon. His feathered curls tickled her skin, additional qualities beginning to appear on the both of them.

“I stand by that one. ‘Nice sandals. Let’s fuck’ is still used to this day.” Crowley said, mindful of her claws she clung to Aziraphale as he took his fill of her. “Anyway, it worked didn’t?”

“That’s not the point!” Aziraphale said before leaving off her neck finally to properly kiss her. He knicked his lips on her fangs, the taste of angel’s blood sweetening her smoky mouth. 

“Then what is? Why are birds falling in love with fish anyway?” Crowley pulled away to lick the gold off of Aziraphale’s lips, the wound slow to heal since it was caused by her. 

“That’s not what it’s about. Where would they make their home? Where do you think?” Aziraphale said, running his hands down her arms, smooth patches of dark scales emerging from her pale skin.

“I dunno. You’re the one pairing up birds and fish with carpentering skills.” Crowley leaned in to press kisses in between the eyes that were beginning to open on Aziraphale’s face, and down his neck. 

“They would build their house on the river.” Was the kind of answer that made Crowley grow still, pulling back so that she could properly stare at the angel with her golden serpentine eyes. 

“Aziraphale...why all this now? What happened tonight?” Crowley asked, her forked tongue moving faster than her mind this time.

“You almost died, well, got inconveniently discorporated right before my very eyes, my dear one.” Aziraphale whispered, “I couldn’t risk you being sent back to Hell. I won’t.”

“Crowley, I- “ Aziraphale’s next words were cut off by Crowley’s palm.

“I know. I know you do.” Crowley said, wishing that their tears were more human as she cried red, and he cried gold at the unfairness of it all. “You know I do too. We don’t have to be anymore brave about it.”

Being brave wouldn’t keep them safe. Crowley would have them be cowards in love rather than dead idiots trying to prove everyone wrong. She knew how the real world worked. Bravery was a nice concept in stories. The reality of it was far more bloody and cruel. 

Words weren’t safe anymore, Crowley removing her hand so that they could seal their lips together. Aziraphale fucked like a dream, like he was created for this, to be inside her, so deep that they lost track of where they began and where they ended.

Like all things, they came to their ends. Crowley bit the angel’s shoulder as she orgasmed, sinking her fangs into the angel’s flesh. The pain of it twisted into a sensation that made Aziraphale come a moment later as they both cried out in their true voices. The sound of it was kept safely within by their wings, the ultimate barrier against just about everything, with the exception of God herself. 

Crowley knew this night would end like they all do, but she was still full of need. They would spend the rest of it together, but Crowley needed something more than them running into each other while on business.

“Think, think, think, think, damn it, think.” Crowley ordered herself. 

Panting, Crowley came up with her own idea for them, for this, the demon leaning in to press her lips to Aziraphale’s eyes. Golden tears made her tongue tingle, imbued with just the faintest touch of the angel’s essence. Catching on, Aziraphale returned the gesture after she was done.

“I know it’s not the same thing...” Crowley began, Aziraphale loving the rest of that sentence off of her lips with his own. 

“When have we ever followed the rules, beloved?”


	2. Avoid dangerous cults: Practice safe sects.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale saving Crowley from a cult after avoiding the not so End of Days. And sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got nothing.

“Bloody Hell, it worked!” Was the first thing Crowley heard as he impatiently waited for the fog of summoning to dissipate. He wouldn’t be able to get the smell of it out of his hair for weeks. 

“First time? Let me guess. You didn’t expect it to actually summon a demon.” Crowley squinted, trying to figure out who was ruining his dinner plans. “Mazel Tov.”

Best case scenario was that it would be a sleepover of teenage girls that he could charm his way out of. Witches usually had booze with them, and had a straightforward agenda. Satanists were a mixed bag of weirdos, misconceptions, and ridiculous expectations. Worst case scenarios would be a cult. They tended to be tenaciously boring, and were usually made up of one reasonably intelligent kooky leader with a whole lot of impressionable idiots in tow.

Unfortunately, cults, or at least one person in said cult, also tended to do their research fairly thoroughly, Crowley finding out that he couldn’t leave. Someone had had the foresight of putting down a powerful demon trap in place. Crowley was stuck until the spell was removed or broken by an outside force.

“Uuugghhh! Cultists! I really hate cults! You make me miss Satanic nuns!” Crowley very animatedly groaned. The fog had lifted to reveal hooded figures dressed in robes of a funny shade of purple. Satanists tended to stick to the classic red and/or black palette. Crowley couldn’t decide if what they were wearing was fuchsia or magenta. Aziraphale would know. Crowley reminded himself to ask whenever the angel decided to show up. 

They had been in the middle of such lovely dinner. Crowley had moved into Aziraphale’s place above the bookshop, the demon leaving his flat for good. He didn’t miss it. Crowley had everything he ever wanted with his angel. They were learning how to do human things together like cooking and baking. Crowley was the better baker of the two, but Aziraphale was turning out to be quite the chef. 

Crowley had made the perfect crusty bread to go with Aziraphale’s Chicken Alfredo pasta. They had just sat down to enjoy the fruits of their labor when Crowley has been suddenly called away, disappearing so quickly that he hadn’t even had time to drop of his wine glass.

Taking a sip of Pinot Grigio, Crowley made a face at it, dumping the rest on the ground. The summoning had given it a funny, off-putting flavor. “Shame that.” He sighed down at the waste. “That was a rather good vino you ruined.”

“Release the human you have possessed, and reveal to us your true form!” Yelled who Crowley assumed was the cult’s leader. His robes were the fanciest. 

“I can’t unpossess my own body, you nitwit. It’s not real a body anyway, more like a really fancy meat puppet that works somewhat similar to yours.” Crowley explained, checking his coat pocket for his Summoning Bingo Cards to mark off a box.

“Do not try to fool us, oh foul fiend of the Pit! I command you to show us.” The cult leader proceeded to yell, unnerved by how normal looking and calm Crowley was. 

“You’re going to be really disappointed.” Crowley sighed, and they always were as he slithered out of his own skin to sit on top of his container’s head. “Ssssee? Happy now? I look absolutely ridiculous.”

“Is that it?” Someone who Crowley’s named Cultist #4, #4 for short, asked after a tense moment of silence. 

“I told you.” Crowley hissed, returning to his original state of being. The basement was a bit too nippy for his liking to be outside of his container. 

“I’ve found bigger snakes in my garden.” #1 said, “Where’s your horns and hooves?”

“Don’t got any. I’m just a snake.” Crowley shrugged. He really wished that they could skip this part, but he did get to mark off another bingo box.

“But devils are supposed to have the horns and the hooves of a goat. The eyeballs too.” #1 would not be so easily put off. 

“Those are all just popular misconceptions. See? Snake eyes! Yes? Snake.” Crowley said as he pushed down his glasses to stare down his audience.

“Our lad, Todd, has a pair of contacts like that.” #1 said, sounding very let down about it. “They look better than yours.”

“Glad to hear it! I think we can all agree that I’m a terribly disappointing demon. Now, will you let me go so I can get back to my dinner?” Crowley tried. It never hurt to ask. Every once in a while, a human would be so stunned that it worked, that they would panic and send Crowley immediately away. No one wanted their Nan walking in on them successfully summoning a demon, or have to make introductions.

“You’ll feast on our flesh if you do that!” The Cult Leader warned his followers, the human now brandishing a old fancy knife with mysterious squiggles carved into the handle. 

“I can tell you that I most definitely will not be doing that. I have a lovely plate of Chicken Alfredo getting cold back at home. Would much rather eat that than any of you.” Crowley said, keeping an eye on that knife. It looked hokey as all hell, but the demon was getting a low level vibe of something from it.

“We need your blood to ascend to the next level of enlightenment!” The Cult Leader confirmed Crowley’s suspicions about the blade. 

“Stop that, you idiot! Someone will get hurt, and it will won’t just be me.” The demon moved out of the way the best he could, but Crowley could only move so much within the circle, which wasn’t a whole lot of space. It was like playing Knife Tag in a corner. The madman finally was able to get him in the arm after several wild tries. 

“I really don’t feel comfortable about this.” #2 piped up. 

“I didn’t know you were being serious about the whole ‘blood drinking’ part of it. I thought it was supposed to be a metaphor, or something.” #3 said, sound uneasy about it. #1 and #4 nodding in agreement as well after a moment. 

Crowley couldn’t blame them. His blood was black, and smelled terribly of sulphur. It was also reacting badly with the odd metal, bubbling down to an ooze. The Cult Leader stared at it, the human obviously weighing his options. 

“Oh, you really shouldn’t have done that. He’ll already be in a state.” Crowley said as he clutched his arm. Of course, they had a blessed knife. 

“Who is he talking about?” Asked #2 in a properly worried tone. 

“His lord and master Satan, of course.” The Cult Leader said, waving off his subordinate’s fear. 

“Why is he laughing then?” #2 pointed out, going from worried to deeply unsettled. Crowley was really beginning to warm up to them. He liked humans who asked questions, and had good survival instincts. 

“You’ll wish it was Old Scratch.” Crowley snorted. 

“Do not be intimated, brethren! See him bleed! The demon Crawley...” Their Fearless Leader began. 

“Crowley.” The demon Crowley interrupted. 

“What?”

“I changed it millennia ago. I thought cultists kept up on that sort of thing. You must have done a bit of research to know how to cast this sort of summoning.” Crowley pointed out. 

“Silence, demon Crawley!” The Cult Leader yelled.

“You shouldn’t dead name him like that.” #2 said, “It’s not right.”

“We are not having a discussion on whether or not if it’s PC to call the demon by which name.” The Cult Leader harshly stage whispered back.

“I really don’t feel comfortable with you doing that, even if he is a demon.” #2 said in a far more normal tone of voice. 

“Yeah, me either.” # 1 added, “You know my sister’s Jeff just become a Jane.”

“Fine then! Demon Crowley...everyone bloody happy now?..We have summoned you to serve this coven!” The now Head Witch professed. 

“Your Satanist witches? Haven’t run into your kind in an age. It would explain the color choice though.” Crowley mused. 

“What? No!” The Not A Witch Then had the audacity to look offended at such a notion. “None of us are witches!”

“Then you can’t call yourself a coven. Witches have covens. Look at yourselves. You’re all dressed in the same robe of an indeterminable color of purple, hence you are a cult.” Crowley said.

“We’re not a cult either!” #1 said, sounding quite insulted by such a notion.

“Yeah, we don’t like that word.” #4 added. 

“It’s doesn’t matter if you don’t like it or not. You’re all dressed up in the same funny little outfits, and following a person who is clearly a lunatic. You. Are. A. Cult. Do you even know what color of purple you are wearing? I’m being dead serious about that question. It’s been driving me nuts all night.” 

“We are a religious order!” The Cult Leader firmly stated.

“So no one knows? Anyone? Is it magenta? Yes? No?” Crowley sighed. 

“Did you hear me?!” 

“Yeah, I heard you! We all bloody heard you! You’re about three feet away from me, yelling in a basement. Your neighbors heard you, for fuck’s sake! I just don’t think that you know what being a religious order means is all so why bother talking to you about it!” Crowley yelled back. 

“Of course we do. What do you take us for?”

“You just misused the word coven.” Crowley pointed out, which apparently was the breaking point. 

“Shut up, and let me finish!” The Cult Leader shrieked, yanking off his hood so it would be easier for him to yell. Crowley watched in amusement as the man turned bright red in the face, trembling with rage. 

Before the Cult Leader could go on though, something shook the foundation of the building they were in, bits of plaster and dust snowing down on them. There was a stunned moment of silence, most of the cultists pulling back their own hoods to stare wide eyed at each other 

“What was that?” One of them finally asked. Crowley believed it was #2. Keeping their hood firmly on, they were the only one showing some common sense throughout this ordeal. 

“Oh, that? That would be my husband. He really doesn’t like his dinner being interrupted.” Crowley said as he started to dust himself off. 

“Husband?!” The cult cried out in unison. 

“Steady, brethren! Remember we are protected against all demons. Soon, we shall have two at our disposal.” Their Leader tried to maintain order. 

“Yeah, that’s lovely for you and all, but what do you have in place for angels?” Crowley asked with a wide grin of sharp teeth. 

“Why would you ask such a thing?” #2 tentatively posed the question. Despite everything, Crowley was really beginning to like #2.

“Oh, just curious.” Crowley grinned wider back. Several someones were screaming quite loudly upstairs, and then more worryingly, they abruptly stopped. 

“Demon, I compel you to tell us what wicked is coming this way!” The Cult Leader demanded. 

“All you had to do was ask nicely.” Crowley said, the demon not looking particularly compelled about anything. “And as for wicked, even though he can be a bit of a bastard at times, he’s the furthest thing from that. Think more in the category of righteous.”

“Tell us! What is out there?! What is coming for us?!” The fat little man looked close to hysterics. Crowley thought the human should have kept the robes and hood on if he wanted to keep looking authoritative. 

“Oh, just an angel. A very pissed off one, I might add.” Crowley said, making a show of considering his manicure. Aziraphale was causing quite the ruckus above them. 

“You’re lying!” The Cult Leader yelled 

“Afraid not.” Crowley said nonchalantly, admiring the unchipped coat of dark polish on his nails.

“But you said it was your husband!” #1 practically squealed, who looked like your average bored housewife. 

“Yup.” The demon putting emphasis on the ‘p’ there. The building shook again as more people began to scream.

“He’s an angel?!” #4 questioned, who could have been any caricature of your average Chad. 

“Yeah, it’s kind of a long story, one that you really don’t have time for from the sounds of it.” To him, it sounded like walls were being torn out in chucks, and thrown over shoulder. 

“Angels can’t be gay!” #1 said primly. 

“Ugh, you’re homophobic cultists? You deserve to be smited.” Crowley snorted, cocking his head to listen in on what was happening upstairs. It sounded like Aziraphale was literally tearing apart the place room by room. Angels were very meticulous beings.

“I’m not homophobic. Love is love.” #2 snapped, staying very firmly in their hood. 

“Oh, not this again. It’s Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve.” #3 argued, a Boomer.

“That’s a terribly ignorant way of thinking. Gender is a concept anyway.” Crowley said, switching to her female presenting form to unzip her pants. She was currently bare as a Barbie doll down there. “You idiots do realize that we’re not humans, right? We’re technically genderless unless we choose to make an Effort.”

“That’s just unnatural.” #3 said, staring while the rest looked away, or peeking between their fingers.

“You have no idea.” Crowley switching it up again so that he had two cocks now, shaking them at the cultists before he put them away. “If I were you, I’d let me go, as in now.”

“But you’ll kill us.” #1 recovered first to point out. The sound of carnage was beginning to move more downward, all the humans looking nervously upward as more dust and plaster rained down on them. 

“Nah, not really my thing. I’ll just make the rest of your lives very unpleasant.” Crowley said with a sharp smile and a shrug. “If that angel comes through that door though, you’ll be definitely out of options. Angel are quite into the whole smiting thing. Think about it. The plagues, Sodom and...the other one...you get the point. All those deeds were all carried out by angels. So what you need to ask yourselves is this, do you really want to meet my angel?” 

“Lies, he speaks lies, brethren!” The Cult Leader said, finding his annoying voice again. He didn’t sound very convincing, not with the squeal of metal pipes being ripping straight out of walls sounding over him. 

“Keep telling yourself that. You won’t even be able to look at him if he’s as pissed off as I know he is. You know your eyes are going to melt out right of your head, right? I really don’t imagine that will feel too pleasant.” Crowley said gently, though that emotion was not being directed at any of the humans here. They would mistake part of that terrible noise going on above them as a weird electrical distortion of some kind, when it was really Aziraphale screaming out Enochian in his true voice for Crowley.

“Why would they do that?” #2 hesitantly asked. Crowley had always appreciated good survival instincts in other beings. #2 sounded just the right amount of scared that the other didn’t possess...yet.

“Because your feeble human little minds can’t handle looking at an angel’s true form. That’s what that screaming coming from upstairs is all about. I think it has something to do with all the eyeballs. I’ll ask when he gets here, not that it will do you lot much good.” Crowley said conversationally. If he saw his husband first, Aziraphale might not kill the humans. If he managed not to, he certainly wasn’t above punishing them. Going blind would be the very least of their worries.

It hit Crowley right there and then that Aziraphale must be sensing his general vicinity, but couldn’t pinpoint it. 

“This basement wouldn’t be hidden would it?” Crowley quickly asked #2 who nodded back. “Aziraphale!” 

It became so suddenly still and quiet, it was like someone had flipped a sound switch off on reality. If a mouse farted, everyone would know where to point. 

“Hidden basement!” Crowley roared as he used his own true voice, making the cultist clutch at their heads in pain.

With a rush of wings, Aziraphale tore into the room, bright and loud as a comet, and not one of the cultists had the good sense to close their eyes except for #2, who was trying very hard to will themselves invisible for good measure. They’d had the foresight to use their hood as well to their advantage. Crowley knew he liked #2 for a reason.

“Are you alright, my darling?! Did they hurt you!?” Aziraphale asked, plowing through the containment circle like it wasn’t even there. All the human magic disintegrated from the angel’s presence alone, Aziraphale burning white hot. He was wielding a flaming poker. 

At the moment, Aziraphale’s face was only vaguely human shaped with a touch of lion gracing the mix of features. Bull horns protruded from his forehead, backed by the wings of an eagle. It shouldn’t have worked, but it somehow managed the combination, wild yet elegant with its extra accompaniment of glowing blue eyes placed in the forehead, cheeks, and down the neck like strange paisley across Aziraphale’s shoulders. The base of it anchored to the back of his neck, the angel’s halo mostly floated free over his head.

Crowley let the angel fuss over him, Aziraphale checking him over with his many pairs of hands as the angel wrapped his wings around him, all the eyes embedded in them fixed on the demon. Most of eyes were in shades of blue with some green and grey thrown into the mix at his wings’ edges. The two pairs of wings were a mess, but then they always were. Aziraphale couldn’t groom his wings properly for anything, Crowley making a mental note to do just that before bed. 

Resembling some other deity, Aziraphale had four pairs of arms, each set different. The set that would wield the flaming sword, or flaming poker in a pinch, were skeletal, Aziraphale usually keeping them tucked back out of sight when not in use.  
The two pairs holding Crowley in place to check him over were the most human in nature, with the exception of one pair being tipped with long golden claws. The last pair was covered in feathered fur, ending with the claws of a lion. 

“They have, the beasts! You’re wounded!” Aziraphale cried out upon finding the cut, making the foundations rattle again from his true voice alone. 

“I’m fine, angel. It’s nothing, more than nothing now.” Crowley grinned as the cut healed all on its own, the cult’s power over him broken. “Is that our poker from the living room fireplace? It is!”

“I improvised.” Aziraphale shrugged as he snapped the blind cultists away. All the screaming was starting to get on his already strained nerves. “I wasn’t sure what I would be walking into.”

“You planned on potentially smiting demons and angels with a poker?” Crowley laughed, delighted by the idea of beating Gabriel over the head with it. 

“It is on fire.”

“Where did you send those little idiots?” Crowley said with a grin as he let himself seep out of his own fake skin. His demon form was far more slender and jagged in places than his human from, covered in scales from head to tail. He remained bipedal though his longs legs more resembled a raptors now with scaled legs taloned toes, and pitch black claws instead of fingers. 

His broken halo was often mistaken for horns, black and jagged as the day it was snapped apart. You had to love Her sense of wicked humor. The rest of his halo had been placed into his quick mouth as fangs.

Eyeballs were supposed to be only an angel thing, but unlike many others who had Fallen, Crowley had been allowed to keep his wings, but more surprisingly, his eyes along with them. Gold snake eyes opened up along three sets of raven like wings. 

“Where they’ll be found, and taken to a hospital...eventually.” Aziraphale said, looking particularly pleased about something as he wrapped all his wings and arms around his demon.

“Don’t hold out on me.” Crowley returned the adoration with his own wings and arms so that they looked like cocoon of feathers and eyes.

“They are currently in the middle of a rather large blackberry farm.” The bastard angel confessed, making Crowley bark out with surprised laughter at the thought all those blind cultists running into horns bushes over and over again. 

“I love and adore you. You never cease to amaze me.” Crowley said as they parting, one cultist left to deal with, one who was pretending to be a statue.

“What do you think I should do with this one?” Aziraphale asked, looming over #2.

“Let them go. I have a feeling they simply fell in with the wrong crowd for a bit of fun.” Crowley said, waving the angel off. 

“I did! I’m sorry! I just wanted to get out of the house, maybe meet someone with similar interests! I honestly didn’t think it would actually work. Bob normally can’t find his own ass with both hands! I thought we were just going to get dressed up, light some candles, chant for an hour or two, stand around awkwardly after that bit, and then pop off to the pub to argue about why it didn’t work, maybe play some darts!” #2 said very quickly explained in their panic. “Please don’t melt my eyes out of my head! I swear I’m not a bad person! I just happen to like the occult! There aren’t a lot of normal social venues for that!”

“He’s not lying.” Aziraphale told the demon, sounding thoughtful. 

“See? They’ve learned their lesson.” Crowley said, walking over to #2 to slap them on the shoulder. “Congratulations, occult human! You get to keep your eyes, and we are letting you go unscathed! Well done, you!”

“Thank you!” #2 trembled, managing somehow not to faint. They then promptly ran into a wall, falling over as they tried to make their escape.

“You may remove your hood. I won’t harm you.” Aziraphale kindly told the lump of robes as the angel tucked himself back in. With a sigh, Crowley did the same. 

“Promise?” #2 whimpered. 

“I give you my word.” Aziraphale dutifully promised. 

You might be lying.”

“I’m an angel, Ryan. We don’t lie.” The first Liar lied. 

“Oh, right.” Ryan said, trying to not feel too bothered that the angel knew his name without asking. He told himself that should be the least of his worries. As much as he wanted to leave, Ryan ended up staring at the angel. 

“Are you alright?” Aziraphale asked, ignoring Crowley who was doing his best trying not to laugh, and doing a terrible job of it.

“You don’t look like an angel. You look like a bloody librarian holding an ancient poker.” Ryan admitted, a bit dumbfounded. He hadn’t known what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t an older gentleman with fluffy white curls wearing a light blue jumper and a tartan bowtie. He was holding a poker that looked like something straight out of the 14th century. 

Ryan was wrong about the poker’s age. The set that the poker belonged to was actually from the 18th century. Even though he would never admit it, Aziraphale was a hoarder of timeless proportions. It still amazed Crowley to this day when he came across one of Aziraphale’s treasures from throughout the millennia, like a menu from a restaurant they had both liked in Turkey. Shame it had closed its doors around three thousand years ago, but its Happy Hour’s specials still survived in the back of a closet. It was sandwiched between a fertility statue of a mostly forgotten civilization dating back to 2,000 BC, and a box of Turkish Delights that Aziraphale had misplaced around the time of Queen Victoria’s coronation. 

“Oh, thank you.” Aziraphale smiled. 

“He didn’t mean it as a compliment.” Crowley quit bothering to hide his laughter. 

“Well, I’m taking it as one. Librarians are dignified individuals who have devoted their lives to books.” Aziraphale said as he unnecessarily spiffed up his tie.

“C’mon, don’t disappoint the poor man. Give him a little dog and pony show.” Crowley nudged. Sighing, the angel let out his wings again, opening a few eyes, and gave himself a little ethereal glow for good measure. 

“BE NOT AFRAID, FOR I AM AN ANGEL OF THE LORD!” Aziraphale said as he turned back to Ryan, adding a tiny measure of power to his voice. It boomed in the confines of the basement. Ryan’s survival instincts were firmly in place, the man slapping his hands over his eyes. Crowley approved. 

“I believe you.” Ryan said, turning to run face first into a wall again.

“There’s really no need for that. I won’t hurt you.” Aziraphale said as he helped the poor man up. 

“Is that what they saw before their...” Ryan asked, gesturing to his eyes.

“Not even close.” Crowley grinned wickedly at the cowering human. “You got a peek at the ‘Diet Angel’ version.”

“I would really like to go home now, if that’s alright?” Ryan said, looking very close to bawling his surviving eyes out. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I truly hope I never meet either of you again.”

“Do avoid Soho, London then for the rest of your existence here on Earth.” Aziraphale suggested. 

“Off you go.” Crowley waved him away, Eric putting Hell to leather on his way out. “Well, that was fun. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you get all smitey.”

“Smitey isn’t a word.”

“Yes, it is. I just used it, it conveyed that I was trying to express. You understood it, and used it back.”

“Crowley, you just can’t go and make up words.”

“All words are made up.”

“Behave, or I’ll put you right back in that demon trap.”

“Don’t pout because I’m right.” Crowley grinned, reaching over to tug the angel into his arms. Aziraphale wasn’t wearing his beloved coat, telling the demon that the angel had more than likely rushed out of the bookshop mere moments after the summoning. “You found me rather quickly. Did you chip me or something?”

“What do fried potatoes have to do with finding you?” Aziraphale said, giving the demon a strange look. “Are you sure you’re alright, my dear?”

“No! I mean, yes, I’m fine. I’m not talking about food. It’s something the humans use to keep track of their pets.” Crowley tried to explain. 

I’m afraid that they’re expecting a little too much from them then.” Aziraphale clearly still thinking about the food, and not the tracking device.

“Never mind. How’d you find me so quick?”

“Oh, when I made your ring, I inscribed a tracking spell inside the band.”

“You did?”

“Haven’t you ever noticed the Enochian there?” Aziraphale said, unable to keep all the disappointment out of his voice. Crowley was having none of that, catching the angel’s face with both hands to make the source of all his happiness look at him. 

“Aziraphale, I haven’t taken it off once since you put it on my finger.” Crowley said, any other questions or comments interrupted by his arms full of angel. The demon’s back hit a wall, Crowley barely noticing as Aziraphale made great use of his mouth. 

Now that they could love each in whatever way they wanted to, from time to time, Aziraphale would be overcome by his own bouts of love for the demon. 6,000 years of guarded constraint will do that to a body though. Crowley was always happy to let the angel dose him with concentrated love.

“I should get summoned more often.” Crowley remarked when he could speak again. 

“How far did you get on your bingo card?” Aziraphale asked between the trail of kisses he was placing to the demon’s pale neck.

“Almost got a row. Would have gotten a bingo if anyone had chanted something wrong in Latin.” Crowley said as he tipped his head back to aid in this endeavor. “Are we really going to have a quickie in a cult’s basement? And yup, there goes my pants, and ah!”

“Sorry, dear.” Aziraphale said, not sounding sorry at all as he skipped some steps to get to the good part.

“Someone’s in a rush. Isn’t patience still considered a virtue?” Crowley pointed out as he showed off his own lack of it by getting them both completely out of their clothing. They fell back onto the bed one of them had miracled up, neither keeping track anymore. 

“Not when emergency services are on their way.” Aziraphale said, easing himself into Crowley’s body. The slide of it made both of them groan aloud, the angel putting the demon’s long legs over his shoulders so that he could press in as deep as he liked.

“Why would they be?” Crowley rasped, arching his back off of the mattress, his fingers digging into it for purchase. Aziraphale started off slow, but that was rapidly changing as he did as well, the ethereal slipping out of him. 

Crowley grinned up at the angel who was holding him in place with four pairs of arms. Aziraphale brought his wings forward to tent over the demon, Crowley entire world now was only feathers, eyes that couldn’t take their gazes off of him, and a completely enamored Aziraphale doing his best to fuck him through the mattress. All the while, Aziraphale kept touching him, petting his hair, stroking his cheek, running light talons down his sides, caressing the curve of his ass, and gripping the base of his shaft so he wouldn’t cum too soon. 

“I did just pull apart an old mansion with my bare hands, dear. Parts of it are probably still on fire.” Aziraphale worked out, holding on Crowley’s hips hard enough to bruise them. “Sorry, dearest.”

“Harder.” Crowley hissed, letting go so that his wings unfurled, spread out against the bed. Unblinking gold eyes stared back up at the angel’s own. 

Aziraphale leaned in slowly, until Crowley was nearly folded in half, an easy thing to do when one’s spine was serpentine in nature. Crowley used his own one pair of hands to leave off shredding the bed, holding onto soft white curls instead as the demon kissed the angel deep and hard enough to redden both of their mouths. 

“Are you ready, beloved?” Aziraphale whispered, “We’re both so close.”

“Does the pope shit in the woods?” Crowley grinned into the biting kiss he gave back in answer.

“You’re lucky I don’t have time to do something naughty to you for that.” Aziraphale sighed, the sounds of multiple sirens beginning to sing off in the distance.

“You’ll have all the time in the world to do anything you want to me when we get home.” Crowley said licked forked tongue into Aziraphale’s mouth, tempting himself to do his worst. “C’mon, angel. Take me to Heaven.”

“Not a chance.” Aziraphale said with that sly little smile that promised Crowley that his angel had plans for him. Then he let go of Crowley as he thrust in, making Crowley see stars still of his own making, but of a very different variety. 

“Do you need me to carry you out?” Brought Crowley back down to Earth. To his dismay, Aziraphale was already dressed. 

“So much for the afterglow.” Crowley sighed, aware of all the emergency workers starting to go through the pile of rumble above them. He snapped up some new clothing before someone accidentally got an eyeful. 

“You’ll be basking in it again soon enough, I promise.” Aziraphale said, sealing the deal with a kiss to the demon’s bony knuckles. He effortlessly picked Crowley up, gathering the demon in his arms. Crowley was lanky and bendy enough to snag the poker from where he was before they took their leave. 

“Angel?” 

“Yes, love?”

“What color were their robes?”

“I do believe they were a rather nice shade of orchid. A bit of an unusual choice for an cult, don’t you think?” Aziraphale answered after mulling it over for a moment. 

“I just knew you would know it. I love you, angel.” Crowley nodded as the demon and angel passed by all the police, firemen, and ambulance unnoticed. It was just as well. They were too busy with each other to be bothered, Crowley doing his best to wrap around Aziraphale while still in human form. Aziraphale was attempting to navigate with his lips attached to Crowley’s own. 

“I love you too, my dear one. It’s been bothering you, hasn’t it?” Aziraphale said with a sweet smile, the kind of which Crowley was happy to stare at until the end of forever, and then, for whatever came after that. 

“You have no idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Your comments study demonology, and are fairly confident in their abilities to summon a demon. Your kudos decide that Netflix and Chill are a safer option, and to calm the fuck down, Becky.


	3. I thought the limit was two? Fucking rabbits.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ark story with sex...really awkward sex. 😆

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need coffee and a Xanax.

Angels, especially archangels, really didn’t like it when you messed with the Plan. 

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!” Crawley chanted to himself as he dodged and wove out of harm’s way, two archangels hot on his tail feathers. He had just gotten the last child of the future drowned to safety, returning one last time to try and find that stray unicorn. 

Unfortunately for the demon, Aziraphale wasn’t the only angel at the Ark anymore. Michael and Uriel had spotted him too close to the God’s latest pet project for their liking. That, and some of the locals had told the angels about a demon ‘stealing’ their children. To be fair to humans, Crawley hadn’t exactly asked for their permission, or even explained what he was doing, or why. He simply hadn’t had the time. 

The humans had no idea that the archangels were the biggest bastards of them all. Knowing Heaven, Michael and Uriel had  
probably even promised the humans that they would return their children to them, but would conveniently leave out the part about how they were all going to be under an instant ocean soon. Crowley saved who he could from this doom, leaving the children with various tribes of peaceful nomads. They were far from home and among strangers, but at the very least, they would be alive.

A condition that Crawley was really hoping to keep as he fly straight up into the darkest storm cloud he could find on the fly. Now that the rain was really coming down in buckets, Heaven had put up some sort of containment spell for reasons. Crawley guessed that it simply wouldn’t do if the people who were supposed to be smited up and left for it.

Before the Fall, Crawley’s original job was based in creation, the former star maker well versed with the properties of light and heat. Michael and Uriel would have done well to remember that, the archangel’s bodies instantly discorporated by the amount of lightening Crawley’s channeled through them. 

He had lost them, but not for long, Crawley’s mind reeling about what he should do next. As soon as Michael and Uriel returned to Heaven, they would tell Gabriel that the Ark was under attack by a trapped demon. A full choir of angels was not something Crawley wanted to deal with. The decision was made for him though, an angel tackling him from behind, sending the pair free falling into the Ark. 

Crawley ended up taking the brunt of the fall, the demon going through a wall to tumble into a storage area of some kind. A little light headed after going face first through the wooden barrier, Crawley’s first hazy thought was that it was lucky thing that he hadn’t landed face first in animal shit. Groggily, he heard the angel recovering faster than he was.

“Be not afraid! It’s just me!” Said a welcome, wonderfully familiar voice. Aziraphale stood over him, offering the demon a hand up. 

“Aziraphale...?”

“No time! They’re coming for you! Do exactly what I say, don’t hesitate, or we’ll both be ended for good.” Aziraphale said quickly, covering the demon’s mouth with his hand so he couldn’t interrupt him. “I need you bring out your talons! Claw me up! Now!”

The ends of Crawley’s fingers turned black as pitch as they sharpened, the demon still kinda out of it, but doing as he was told. Golden blood spilled as Crawley raked his claws down the angel’s arms. The smell of it alone brought Crawley fully back to his senses. 

“Do my side, and a leg for good measure!” Aziraphale told him next. He was trying to keep the pain off of his face, and doing fairly good job of it, but the tightening around his mouth was giving the angel away. It was the desperate fear mixed with pure determination in Aziraphale’s eyes that drove Crawley to continue, though he was loathe to do so. 

“The face.” Aziraphale ordered, his tone strained.

“Angel...” Crawley started to protest.

“The face! Make it look good!” Aziraphale snapped. Hating himself more than he ever thought he could, Crawley took a halfhearted swipe, his claws catching the angel over his left eye down to the bridge of his nose, finishing on the opposite lower cheek. His heart sank even further as the angel brought out his beautiful wings. He already knew where Aziraphale was going with this.

“Tear out my feathers! Hurry!” Aziraphale ordered next as he gathered up handfuls of his own blood, smearing it over Crawley’s skin and hair until he glistened with it. Digging his talons in, Crawley grimaced as he tore at the angel’s wings. 

“That’s enough.” Aziraphale whimpered, collecting up as many feathers as he could. “Hurry! Stick what you can in your own wings!” 

While Crawley did that, Aziraphale pressed what he could to Crawley’s skin, the angel’s blood making the feathers stick to the demon’s skin.

“Turn around! Quickly!” Aziraphale said, gesturing with his hands. “Sorry about this.”

Crawley bit back a scream as Aziraphale tore out a good handful of the demon’s feathers. They were mostly just down feathers from the base near where the wing connected to his back, Crawley still capable of flying. A good bit of blood had come along with the feathers, Aziraphale’s hand and forearm splattered with it. 

Crawley didn’t have time to ask what to do next, Aziraphale shoving hay aside to reveal a hidden door that they had been practically standing on. In less than a minute, the angel flung it open, shoved Crawley in, slammed it shut, and shoved the hay back over it. He then promptly collapsed on top of it, seconds before the other angels came flooding in.

“Aziraphale! What happened!?” Gabriel asked, staring down at the wounded angel. The choir of angels murmured worriedly behind him, none of them seeing one of their own bleed like this since the war in Heaven. 

“The demon...He fell into the Ark. I followed him...he wounded me.” Aziraphale lied to the archangel without doing so at all. He lifted his ruined wings, showing the horrified angels the damage done to them. All while the archangel and his choir stood directly over where Crawley was hiding.

“I sense him. He’s still nearby!” Sandalphon said, making Crawley go so incredibly still, the demon not even risking breathing or blinking. He hoped the angel’s blood and feathers would be enough to muck up the other angel’s senses. 

“You’re smelling this!” Aziraphale said, holding up his hand for the others to inspect. The one full of black feathers and covered in demon blood, Crawley realizing that Aziraphale was a very clever angel. “I-I, but my wings...and y-you’re wasting time on me! Go look for him! I’ll be fine!”

“Good point! Nice try fighting the demon, Aziraphale. We’ll take it from here.” Gabriel said as he edged away from the wounded angel. Like the other angels, he didn’t like to be reminded that they weren’t invulnerable. “Sandalphon, good news! You’re permanently off boat duty! Hunting down this demon is far more important!”

“Praise be!” Sandalphon said, the archangel obviously relieved. 

“Aziraphale, stay here, and clean up. Take care of this Ark thingy while you heal up. Fix that hole while you’re at it.” Gabriel said, gesturing dismissively at all the blood splatter, and the damage to the room. “Okay, angels, the rest of you, follow me!”

There was a great rush of wings, and then near complete silence, the sounds of rain and blood hitting the wood filing the void left behind by the choir. 

“It’s safe to come out now.” Aziraphale said softly after a space of breathing room, the angel moving off the door. 

“Pompous twats! Are they really that bloody stupid?” Crawley said until he got a better look at the angel, dropping down to kneel beside him. He started to reach for the angel, but the demon didn’t know what to do so it hung in midair. “Oh, Aziraphale, I didn’t hurt you too badly, did I?”

“Nothing that won’t eventually heal up. You did a number on my left wing though. I won’t be flying any time soon for a bit.” Aziraphale sighed, looking over himself. His wounds weren’t bleeding as heavily anymore. His Grace would eventually reverse all the Infernal damage done to him. Given enough time, there won’t even be scars. The process would just be slow going. He laid back down with a sigh.

“Can I do anything?” Crawley asked. No wonder the other angels had left in such a rush. It look like something had been butchered in here. There was golden castoff splatter everywhere, the room smelling sweet from it.

“Can you get me some wine?” Aziraphale murmured, his eyes closed. 

“Will that heal you?” Crawley miracled up several jugs of it, thinking that the angel might clean his wounds with it like the humans did. 

“No, but it will make me feel better about about being alive.” Aziraphale said, sitting up long enough to polish off the first jug in record time. “That’s better. Thank you, my dear.”

“Don’t thank me, you idiot.” Crawley grumbled as he took a seat next to the angel. “What do we do if they come back?”

“I’ve put a blessing up that will let me know if they’re heading back this way. It detects demons too so they won’t question its presence.” Aziraphale said, “You best be ready to crawl back under there. I’m afraid that the others will be around for a little while, looking for you. I doubt they will return to the Ark though, but better safe than sorry.”

“And what? Let you keep bleeding on me?”

“It will stop soon, but yes, it should keep you safe. I’ve been doing a good job of covering all the floorboards under me, and the walls down there. The wood will soak it all right up.” Aziraphale said, spreading his wings out the best he could for maximum coverage. “When it dries, I’ll just cover the floor with more hay, and leave a compulsion sigel so that the humans will feel a strong need to avoid this room.”

“So literally the safest place for me right now is on this bloody Ark?” Crawley could not believe his twisted luck sometime.

“Afraid so.” Aziraphale said, gesturing to the hole they had made together. The rain was really starting to come in. “Be a good chap, and fix that wall so Gabriel doesn’t have another reason to come back here.”

“What a wanker. He could have done it himself.” Crawley said, already thinking up a cover story if Hell had any questions about him fixing a part of the Ark. His high-ups couldn’t fault him if he told them while he was escaping archangels, he decided to break into the Ark for shits and giggles, hiding out there until the coast was clear.

“Jolly good job of it.” Aziraphale said, toasting Crawley with another jug of wine before plowing through it.

“Are you all right?” Crawley asked, the angel tossing the empty over his shoulder, the clay pot shattering somewhere behind them. 

“Tip-top, old boy. Absolutely tickety-boo. Just a little light headed from all the blood loss. The wine is lending in to that sensation quite well.” Aziraphale smiled up at the demon. 

“We should at least clean you up.” Crawley decided, mostly because he didn’t know how to respond to ‘tickety-boo’, or what state of mind that could pertain to. 

“In a moment. I wanted the wine for a reason.” Aziraphale said, forcing himself to stand up. Crawley grimaced as the angel began to flap his ruined wings, sending more of his fluid Grace everywhere. From Aziraphale’s grim expression, it was not a painless thing to do. 

“A little warning next time.” Crawley said after getting his own fresh coat. 

“Sorry, but like I said, the wood will soak it right up.” Aziraphale said as he fell over, Crawley catching the angel in time to help him lie back down. “If the others return, all they will be able to scent is my blood. They’ll find it off putting enough to not venture further into this room.”

“And then what?”

“You hide underneath like before. They don’t know anything about doors being able to be in the floor either so they won’t know to look down. Chances are, even if they do notice it, they won’t know why it’s there, or bother with it.” 

“And then what?”

“If all else fails? I dunno. Pray? I’m fresh out of ideas.” Aziraphale said, returning to the wine.

“Why did you help me?” Crawley asked finally, unable to keep the question that had been brewing in him from the moment the angel had flung him under the floorboards. 

“I went back for the children, but I was told that they were already gone, snatched up by a demon with black wings and gold eyes. It wasn’t too hard to figure out the rest for myself.” Aziraphale said, attempting to drink wine while lying down. It wasn’t going well for him. The curly straw was about to be invented.

“You still didn’t answer my question. If you were doing what you were supposed to, you should have let Gabriel tear me apart. I had just served up two extra crispy archangels to Heaven.” Crawley pressed, knowing he could more from the inebriated angel. 

“It’s their own fault for following you to into those storm clouds. If they had bothered to pay any attention to my reports, they would have know better.” Aziraphale grumbled in a tone that very firmly suggested ‘serves them right’. Hating himself for it, Crawley fell a little bit more in love with angel. 

“Sit up. I can’t leave your wings like that.” Crawley ordered, giving up on an answer for now. “If you want, you can still bleed all you like.”

“But I should do it with well groomed wings?” Aziraphale laughed as he was gently sat up by the demon.

“Drink your wine, angel.” Crowley rolled his eyes as he began to pull out broken and loosened feathers. He took his time, minimizing as much damage as he could. 

“You next.” Aziraphale sang to the demon when he was done. The angel’s cheeks were quite rosy now, his lips stained with wine. 

“What? Why?” Crawley looking quite panicked about something so simple.

“Cause it feels nice, and you need my feathers in your wings to keep you safe.” Aziraphale said, giving the demon the most perplexed look back, the kind that only the drunk could manage. “Obviously.”

“Yes, obviously, indeed. I think you need to ease up on the wine.” Crowley couldn’t help but snicker at the inebriated angel, sitting down anyway. While it was quite common in Heaven, demons didn’t groom each other’s wings. Quite a few demons didn’t even have them anymore, and the ones that did, they kept them hidden so they wouldn’t be torn off out of jealousy and spite. 

But this was Aziraphale, an angel who had offered up his own wings to protect him time and time again. Once from the very first rain a thousand years ago, and now, this time allowing Crawley to mangle them. To make matters better or worse because Crawley couldn’t quite decide at the moment, Aziraphale was cheerly grooming his wings like it was the most normal thing in the world for him to do, drunk off his happy little ass after lying to an archangel as he hid a demon who had just fried two other archangels. Crawley guessed that after you lied straight to God’s face...light...whatever, really everyone else was just small potatoes.

An angel who was currently making silly little noises, and hiding them badly.

“What are you laughing about back there?” Crowley asked.

“Your wings looks like a starling.” Aziraphale chuckled, “If you were a bird, you would be a starling.”

“Why? Because they are a pest?” Crawley sighed, bringing in a wing to access it. The angel was right, of course. It did resemble a starling’s own now. 

“No!” Aziraphale said more loudly than he meant to, startling the both of them. 

“No.” He continued on more quietly. “Because you’re clever, and mischievous, and so pretty like they are.”

“You think I’m pretty? I’m a demon.” Crawley snorted, rolling his eyes at the angel. He ignored the strange little prickles that were going on in his chest. 

“I don’t see what that has anything to do with it. Still pretty.” 

You’re drunk.” Crawley sighed, starting to get up. Th demon decided that he needed some distance from the angel before he did something stupid, like start to believe Aziraphale. Crawley didn’t get very far, the angel wrapping his arms and wings around the demon from behind. 

“I know, but you’re still pretty.” Aziraphale said as he nuzzled his face into the demon’s long red hair. “Smell good too.”

If someone had asked Crawley about what he thought was going to happen today, being complimented and cuddled by an angel wouldn’t have been in his first hundred guesses. He had no idea what to do. Demons didn’t touch each other, much less cuddle, and yet here he was, covering in Aziraphale’s blood and feathers after having his wings grooming in the first time since his Fall. It was a lot to take in all at once. 

“Are you crying?” Aziraphale asked softly, Crawley not doing as good of a job as he would have liked about hiding it.

“Demons don’t cry.” Crawley snapped, very obviously doing just that. To his relief and horror, Aziraphale let go of his waist, but didn’t move his wings away. The angel merely shifted himself so that he could face Crawley. 

“What are you staring at...” Crawley hissed when Aziraphale didn’t say anything. The angel responded by wrapping his arms and wings more tightly than before around the demon. Harsh words dying in Crawley’s throat, the demon reciprocated the hug by clinging back like he were drowning. In a way, the demon was. For the first time, in a very, very long time, Crawley cried. 

He cried out of fear that he wasn’t particular good at being a demon, and what would happen to him if Hell ever found that out. He cried about admiring the humans for their stubborn tenacity, fragile things they were living in a world that was constantly trying to kill them. He cried about hurting Aziraphale, the only being that knew what he was, and still showed him more kindness than he deserved. He cried that he hadn’t been good enough angel, that he would never get to hear Her beautiful voice, or experience Her love until the end of days. He cried that he would never create anything of worth again, that his stars would die,and he would have to still see their light long after they did. He cried about falling in love with Aziraphale because it was love, and that he could still feel and be in love with the one being he couldn’t be with. If Hell or Heaven ever found out, at the very least, they would be separated and tortured for the rest of eternity. At the worst, Heaven would make the angel Fall, or even worse than that, completely erase Aziraphale’s existence from the universe. 

Crawley knew right there and then that he didn’t want to keep existing without the angel. The realization both delighted and horrified the demon. It was enough of a shock to quiet the demon’s bawling. It was only then Crawley noticed that Aziraphale was singing softly to him in Enochian, the language of angels. It was more beauty than Crawley felt he deserved, but couldn’t bring himself to push Aziraphale away. Full of too many emotions and not knowing what to do about them, Crawley went limp in the angel’s arms, letting Aziraphale hold him. He was too exhausted to do anything else as he burrowed his face into the angel’s chest. 

“Shhhhhh. It’s all right. I know it’s been a trying day.” Aziraphale whispered, stroking Crawley’s hair. 

“How can you even stand to touch me after what I did to you?” Crawley asked, feeling numb. It’s like something had been carved out of him, but not necessarily in a bad way. 

“I may be quite drunk, but I still distinctly remember me telling you to do it. I’ll be fine. I’ve stopped bleeding, and the wounds are already starting to heal up.” Aziraphale sounded amused, the bastard. Crawley couldn’t bare to look up just yet to check. If the universe would of allowed it, he would take up permanent residence here upon Aziraphale. 

Making the demon sit up. Crawley thought that was to be the end of it, but it was only so Aziraphale could miracle up a moist cloth to clean Crawley’s face with. The angel’s wings even stayed where they were, hugging the demon in place of his arms. “It was necessary, my dear. Please don’t be upset anymore about it.”

“Why did you come one back if all the children were already gone?” Aziraphale asked when he was done.

“I was looking for that blasted unicorn.” Crawley admitted, too worn out to make the angel work for it. He laid his head in Aziraphale’s lap instead. 

“Oh, I hate to tell you, but you needn’t have bothered. I’ve relocated them both to this lovely green island up in the North where they will be safe.” Aziraphale told him as he petted the demon’s hair, untangling it here and there with gentle fingers.

“Why’d you do that? Isn’t that in direct violation of the Plan, or something?” Crawley asked, looking up at the angel.

“Not at all. Noah was ordered by God to collect two of every animal. Because of that, he didn’t want to keep one unicorn on the Ark so he chucked it back out.” Aziraphale said, leaving off so he could reach for more wine. “They didn’t have time to look for the other one. I did. They needed the room anyway. It’s a bit crowded here.”

“That’s an understatement. This place is going to reek of shit soon here enough.” Crawley said, snapping up more wine as he reluctantly sat up. He had some catching up to do. Both of their wings were still out to overlap so there was that. 

“Lovely, and I have to stay here for the duration of it.” Aziraphale grumbled into his cup.

“I’ll stay with you.” Crawley said, surprising them both. 

“The other angels won’t hang around in the rain, or on the Ark for forty days and forty nights. You can go anytime you like once it really starts.” Aziraphale explained, though he very much wanted to keep silent on the matter. 

“Fucking Hell, it’s going to get worse that it already is out there?” Crawley didn’t bother with a cup. He drank straight from the jug. 

“Afraid so. You don’t have to stay for it like I must.”

“I’m not doing anything.” Crawley said with a shrug, “Anyway, everything on this boat is supposed to be in pairs. Dunno why two is Her favorite number all of the sudden. 

“Because all you need is two to make more.” Aziraphale pointed out, thinking that would be the end of it. 

“Come again?” But it wasn’t. 

“Crawley, you do know where babies come from, right?” Aziraphale asked tentatively, a notion suddenly dawning on him. 

“From other things that are like themselves, of course. The female version gets all big and uncomfortable for a bit, there is lot of unpleasantness at the end of that, and then, bam! Baby!” Crawley was starting to get the feeling that he was missing something, something big. 

“Well, you’re not entirely wrong, but you do realize that the females don’t impregnate themselves?” Aziraphale pressed.

“What are you going on about?”

“What do you have going on down there right now? Have you made an Effort yet?” Aziraphale asked, trying a new tactic. 

“I can. I’ve been playing around with the whole gender thing. What’s having this gash between my legs got to do with anything?” Crawley asked. The demon stood, pulling up her robes to show off the new part there. 

Making his own Effort, Aziraphale pulled his up too. “That goes in there, and that’s how babies are started. The male plants a seed in the female.” He said, pointing back and forth to their exposed genitals.

“No! You’re joking! You can’t be serious!” Crowley gasped, her jaw dropping in disbelief. “How does that floppy thing get up in there?

“It doesn’t stay like that. It gets hard, and then it sits up all on its own.” Aziraphale tried to demonstrate, but in all fairness to the angel, it was his first time doing so. It didn’t exactly go according to plan, his penis remaining flaccid. “Well, it’s supposed to anyway.”

“That sounds ridiculous. That’s ridiculous. You’re making it up. Does it look ridiculous like that? I bet it does.” Crawley said, sitting back down next to the angel to stare at it. “Are you doing it right?”

“To be honest, I really have no idea. The human don’t like to talk about it out in the open for some reason.” Aziraphale admitted as Crawley began to inspect his penis. “The little sack underneath is where the seeds are kept.” 

“On the outside like that? Seems like a serious design flaw to me. Why not keep all of it internally where it’s safer?” Crawley wondered aloud as she explored with not the gentlest hands. 

“Careful! It’s all quite sensitive.” Aziraphale yelped, Crawley jerking her hands back. “You can keep touching it. Just be more careful about it.”

“On top of everything else, it hurts to touch too? I’ll stick to what I’m wearing, thank you very much.” Crawley said. She did like how the silky skin of the shaft felt though, the demon stroking her fingers gently up and down it. 

“What you’re currently doing doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t hurt at all. Actually, it feels rather nice. It justs...” Aziraphale said, suddenly feeling too hot and different. 

“It’s getting bigger!” Crawley said in amazement as Aziraphale’s Effort started to change shape. 

“Yes, I told you. They do that.” Aziraphale said, breathing out a quiet sigh of relief that his penis worked. 

“I think that’s as big as it’s going to get. What do we do now?” Crawley asked after helping it along some more. 

“You straddle me, and sit down on it until it’s all the way in.” Aziraphale explained, “From what I understand, the wetter you are, the better it will feel doing so.”

“I have to take a bath now?” Humans could be so confusing. 

“No, your own part can moisten itself. Come here. Peel those back. See that little nubbin at the top. No, more up. Why would it be down there? Think of it as a man in a little boat’s bow. Yes, you touch that! Wiggle it around a bit.” Aziraphale instructed as Crawley navigated her anatomy. 

Oh...oh! I quite like that.” Crawley said after a few minutes of doing just that. Her part was indeed moistening itself. It felt weird and wonderful all at the same time. “But now you’re wilting.

“It needs near constant attention, or it will do that.” Aziraphale shrugged.

“Are you fine laying on your back?” Crawley getting an idea. 

“I don’t plan on doing anything else for a very long while.”

“You make mine wet, and I’ll keep yours from wilting. Deal?” Crawley already moving to get in position. 

“Sounds alright.” Aziraphale said, an angel who had never hesitated about putting anything in his mouth at least once. 

“How does it feel?” Aziraphale paused to ask because Crawley was making the strangest noises. The angel didn’t know if the demon was in pain or not.

“Keep going! Don’t stop! It’s amazing! I’ll put mine on yours too. Tell me if it’s any good.” 

“It’s good! It’s good! It’s so very good.” The two going at each other’s parts with renewed zeal. Unsurprisingly, Aziraphale was better at it, the orgasm surprising Crawley enough to sit back hard on Aziraphale’s face to grind down.

“What just happened?” Aziraphale asked as Crawley tried to stand up on shaky legs moments later. Luckily for them both, angels didn’t need to breathe, and were fairly durable. A broken neck would have thrown a real wench in the works.

“That was everything I wanted, and everything I didn’t know I needed!” Crawley said, eyeing Aziraphale’s penis with greatly renewed interest. “C’mon, angel. Let’s give that a spin.”

“I’m willing to have a go at it.” Aziraphale readily agreed. 

Moving to straddle the angel, Crawley lowered herself down, holding the shaft as she guided the bulbous head where she was wettest. It parted her flesh, the demon slowly sinking down upon it as she catalogued sensations. 

“Oh my...” was all Aziraphale’s brain could come up with.

“Yeah, don’t move yet. Things still are...adjusting.” Crawley said far more tightly as she experimentally clenched and unclenched newly noticed muscles. 

“I don’t think I could even if I wanted to.” Aziraphale murmured, blissed out of his mind at the moment. 

Once she got used to the sensation of feeling so unusually full, Crawley found that it didn’t feel unpleasant, just different. Shifting her hips helped, though it made Aziraphale groan like he was in pain. 

“Does it hurt?” Crawley asked, going still as she worried about his wounds. 

“No, not at all. It feels wonderful. Try going up and down on it.” Aziraphale said, quickly reassuring the demon. 

Oh...oh! That’s good!” Crawley tried an experimental little bounce that led to much bigger bounces. And then Crowley remembered her clit, her fingers finding it easily this time. “This is brilliant!”

“Remember it’s all sensitive down there, and you’re rather bony.” Aziraphale’s hands flew to the demon’s hips, smoothing out her enthusiastic bouncing as he drove his hips up to meet her part way, the demon and angel establishing a rhythm. It had a stunning effect on the both of them, Aziraphale hitting all the right spots as Crawley pressed down on her own button. The tightening flutter all around his cock surprised Aziraphale into climax, the demon and angel holding on to each other as they rode out their pleasure together.

“So that’s what the whole hullabaloo has been about.” Aziraphale panted. 

“I can see why, but what a mess.” Crawley said, getting off the angel to snap them clean before laying down beside him. Why am I just learning about this now?”

“Well, the humans tend to do it in secluded places after it gets dark. It’s not all sleeping for them.”

“How do you know all about it?” Crawley asked in an accusatory tone, like the angel was personally told the world to withhold this bit of information from the demon. 

“Angels inspire love. Some humans think of it as a way to express their love. That, and I don’t sleep. They get so noisy sometimes, so I decided to peek in. Got an eyeful, I can tell you that much.” Aziraphale said, gesturing vaguely toward the wine. 

“Have you tried it with the other part yet?” Crawley didn’t feel like moving just yet either, the demon miracling a jug between them with two curly straws. 

“I have not.”

“Want to do it again, but switch it up next time?” Crawley asked, already doing so. He still wasn’t sure about the the whole penis thing, but he was up to try anything at least once. 

“In a bit, after I’ve healed up some more.”

“Oh, right.” Crawley mumbled. The angel was looking much healthier, but his wounds had only just scabbed over. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I want to do something other than lay there. It will be more fun that way.” Aziraphale said with a smile. The angel had a wonderful smile, Crawley staring at it, wondering to himself about why it was so infectiously perfect. There was such joy within it, some power behind it that was unique to the angel made warmth seep in all around Crawley’s jagged edges. 

“I want to do something to you that I’ve seen the humans do to each other.” Crawley said after long moment of silence. The angel was still drunk enough to not be bothered by the demon quietly studying him.

“Do as you like. I must warn you that I’m not up for much.” Aziraphale shrugged, wincing from the movement of it. He watched Crawley as the demon slowly leaned in, pressing his lips to the angel’s own. Unsurprisingly, Aziraphale’s lips were soft to the touch, parting so easily for Crawley as he tasted the angel’s mouth for the first time. If happiness had a flavor, it would be the sweetness of Aziraphale’s lips. 

“I think I did it right.”

“I agree.”

“Aziraphale, why are you helping me?” Crawley asked quietly.

“I think the answer should be fairly obvious.” Aziraphale said just as quietly back, taking the demon’s hand into his own as he did. Blinking back tears, Crawley looked away as he tightened his grip on the angel, his angel.

“Is this all right?”

“Ngk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Your comments keep wondering where all the rabbits are coming from. Your kudos eventually tells them. Your comments are shocked and horrified.


	4. Keep porn in your heart all year through

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SHE IS HERE! FEMALE PRESENTING AZIRAPHALE! 
> 
> Oh, and weird snake sex.
> 
> And yes, I did look up the weather patterns for the 1850’s, and women’s fashion at that time.
> 
> EDIT- “Snakes and lizards have not just one, but two penises, called hemipenes. University of Sydney researcher Christopher Friesen says having two hemipenes may benefit males during mating.” Quote from National Geographic
> 
> Yeah, so snakes have two penises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t wanna go to Heaven. None of my friends are there.

Only three days into the new year of 1850, and Crowley was ready to write the whole damn thing off. Heavy snow coming down from Scotland were doing nothing good for the demon’s mood. He didn’t want to be at this extravagant holiday party. He didn’t want to partake in banal small talk with equally banal humans who were getting more knackered with every passing second. Crowley very much wanted to be at home in his bed under a wealth of blankets next to a roaring fire, cuddling up with a bottle of scotch that was old enough to bury itself until winter was over. 

Looking like an unkindness of ravens in his handsome black suit with all the finest touches to it, Crowley was supposed to be planting seeds of deceit into some rich baroness’s mind so that she would ruin her new daughter-in-law’s marriage. Instead, Crowley was busy with being cross about his joints aching from a chill that he just couldn’t seem to shake. Crowley wished he could lose all of them in favor of scaled hibernation. He wondered how long he could sleep before anyone would notice. It was a very tempting notion to try out. 

It vanished from thought upon hearing a familiar, and yet not so familiar, laugh, Crowley perking up to scan the crowd. The demon ended up spilling his mulled wine all over himself when the demon’s gaze landed on the source of that laughter. 

Aziraphale was holding court across the far side of the ballroom. The angel was surrounded by an entourage of admirers, lords and ladies alike, basking in the barely contained celestial glow. Crowley couldn’t blame them for that as he too started to gravitate toward the angel, snapping away the mess he had made of himself with the mulled wine. He already knew that Aziraphale would smell like summer, of sweetness, sunshine, and apples.

Angels and demons were technologically genderless unless they decided not to be. Crowley changed like the weather as in ‘vagina today, gone tomorrow’, or ‘why not both’, or ‘hey, there is a smashing variety of penises to choose from’.

On the other hand, Aziraphale simply couldn’t be bothered most of the time. The angel liked consistency. Aziraphale preferred clothing to fit like it should. The angel enjoyed not having to make a complicated series of choices about fashion several times a day. Aziraphale simply found it easier to stick to one gender, and just be done with the whole matter, thank you very much. 

So it was a rare delight when the angel decided to change it up. All Crowley could do was stare at Aziraphale when they did. In this form, her breasts were the loveliest things in creation that Crowley ever cared to remember, one needing both hands just to properly cup one of them. Tonight was no exception from this trend.

So to see Aziraphale sporting a stunning evening gown was another true rarity, looking every inch the angel she was in volumes of airy lace. Crowley couldn’t help, but entirely forget what he was supposed to be actually doing at this party other than stare at Aziraphale. Crowley really hoped that her bodice and corset were made of steel instead of more commonplace whale bone. The angel was putting a lot of faith in her outfit’s capabilities of keeping her ample bosom from giving the room a free show. Crowley suspected there may be a miracle or two in play there to aid in that. 

The gown was a stunning production of white silk and gold lace that was off the shoulder with a short bell-shaped pagoda sleeve. Keeping with the fashion, and Crowley had never been more grateful for it, the bodice was blessed with a deep plunging neckline, which was a sin in its own right by how the angel was testing it. Beneath her cinched waist, the domed skirt was a soft sea of flounces that gave onlookers, of which there were too many for Crowley’s liking, the impression that Aziraphale was floating about, gliding her way on air from person to person. All the pearls and diamonds sewn into the silk made the angel glitter and glimmer as she did so.

When female, Azirphale always wore her hair in long thick waves which were more silvery in color than their normal bone white. The tresses were pinned back so it looked like a waterfall made of stolen moonlight was spilling down her back. Adding to the beauty of it, there were also long white ribbons edged with more gold lace woven in her hair. When Aziraphale moved, they floated behind the angel, looking like the outline of wings. 

While female presenting, Aziraphale was still soft in shape, just in different places, all the right places in Crowley’s opinion. The angel’s naturally pale skin, rosy cheeks, and bright blue eyes went perfectly with the current fashion, the people of the Victorian Age madly in love with the ‘natural look’. Makeup was everyone’s dirty little secret. It was worn as subtly as possible, not that the angel needed it.

The angel was the most beautiful being in the room, and Crowley ached in deep places for her, his want for her gutting him painfully to his core. The demon orbited around Aziraphale, attempting to catch her eye to no avail. The angel always seemed to be chatted up someone, too involved in conversation to notice him which was not the norm. 

This close to one another, Crowley knew that the angel could sense him. Yet it seemed like Aziraphale was doing her best to avoid him. The demon tried to think of why, but was at a loss. Their last interaction over a month ago had gone well, Crowley taking the angel out to lunch. They had walked around St. James park afterward, ending up back at the bookshop to decimate a crate of delicious Italian wine together. 

Try as he might though, Crowley couldn’t seem to get a word in edgewise in greeting. He was also rebuffed by the crowd of humans drawn to Aziraphale who was letting out more of their heavenly aura than usual. The result of that was humans wanted to crowd in as close as possible to Aziraphale, like flies to honey.

When Aziraphale accepted a dance from a tall red headed nobleman, Crowley decided it was time for him to leave, the baroness and everything else be damned. The angel had made it clear that his demonic company was undesirable. 

Not bothering with anything else, Crowley got himself through the door with astonishing haste, soon leaving the party far behind him. Trudged through the snow, the demon was too busy thinking very bitter thoughts to notice the weather.

In his haste to depart, Crowley realized he had neglected to collect his very necessary fur coat, gloves, and hat on his way out. His head full of steam had kept the demon fueled up to a point.

Too much of a stubborn ass to go back for them while not thinking rationally, Crowley trudged through the snow, still obsessing over visions of Aziraphale twirling across the dance floor with the ginger Lord burned into his mind. The remembrance of his hands touching his angel made Crowley feel physically sick. 

Belated, Crowley realized that sensation might be largely due to the weather he had been ignoring in favor of overthinking what was being done to Aziraphale by beings who were not Crowley. Even demons have their limits, especially ones whose true nature was reptilian. 

“Bugger.” Crowley said before he suddenly shifted. Coiling up into a tight ball, Crowley knew that he would have to get warm, and he needed to do it now. Unfortunately, it was to the point that all he could think was ‘cold, cold, cold, cold’ on a loop. Crowley could feel himself shrinking in size, his body trying to conserve energy. If he didn’t do something soon, the demon would discorporate from the cold alone. If that happened, Crowley would never bear the end of it from Hastur. 

Just when the demon thought he was going be ended right there and then in the dreadful snow, a miracle happened. Too warm hands found him, digging the serpent out of the snow and ice. 

“Oh dear, oh dear...” Crowley faintly heard Aziraphale mutter to herself. “Why did you go and do such a stupid thing like that?”

Too weak to answer, the last thing the serpent saw before he blacked out was a pair of worried blue eyes, and delicate hands wearing lace gloves that were woven fine as frost.

It was a very certain warmth that coaxed him back to waking, Crowley feeling surrounded by it. It was a force unto itself, pressing up against his scales anywhere it could. It felt, smelled, and tasted like his angel, Crowley returning enough to the land of the living to flick out his forked tongue, tasting the world around him. Waking more, the demon knew he still in his smaller snake form to conserve energy, and that he was very near Aziraphale. He just wasn’t sure of ‘the where’ just yet. 

Regaining consciousness in different level of senses, Crowley began to work out that he had not been inconveniently discorporated, and he was apparently still at party by the sounds of it.

His other senses slowly returning, Crowley realized that it felt like he was being held in place by the softest, warmest substance he had ever experienced. The padding came with its own steady vibrations, the such of which was picking up and slowing down seemingly on whim. Hazarding a guess, Crowley thought it sounded like...felt like he was laying up against a heartbeat. 

“I’m on Aziraphale’s chest!” Crowley was fully awake and aware now, the realization the jolt he needed to snap out of his mental fog. Giving an experimental wiggle, Crowley realized that he was more accurately in Aziraphale’s chest, the demon currently being kept warm and held in place between her massive breasts.

“If you’ll please excuse me, Lord Ramsey. I feel the need to powder my bottom.” Aziraphale said from above him, confirming the demon’s suspicions.

“Oh for heaven’s sake, nose! Powder your nose.” Crowley sighed, wiggling about some more. He had no idea which way was up or down, having a lot of flesh to navigate through. It wasn’t like he could release an air bubble underwater, and follow its path up to the surface. 

“Stop that, foul fiend! It tickles! You know I’m not used to having these.” Azirphale said, digging the snake out of her excessive cleavage. Snapping her fingers to keep humans away for the time being, the angel looked the demon over for any injury. “I don’t remember them being so sensitive.”

“Angel, you can’t say things like that around me, especially when you look the way you do.” Crowley groaned theatrically, writhing as if in pain in the angel’s hand. Aziraphale was going to make him discorporate from sheer lust if she kept this up.

“Hush, you. I look like a silly Christmas tree topper.” Aziraphale said dryly, “Why did you leave the party so suddenly, my dear? And without your coat, or even saying goodbye? You were very lucky that I came looking for you when I did.”

“Why would you be doing that when you’ve been ignoring me all night? You suddenly get tired of Lord Wanker?” Crowley hissed. It didn’t come off as very menacing, considering his size. The demon was currently as threatening as a wet noodle. 

“Pray tell, who might Lord Wanker be?” Aziraphale asked, arching a perfect brow at the serpent. 

“The git you’ve been dancing with all night.”

“I don’t believe one dance hardly constitutes an entire evening.” Aziraphale rolled her eyes at the dramatic exaggeration. “Good Lord, is that really what all this is about, you ridiculous serpent?”

Crowley was beginning to get a sinking feeling that he may have misread the situation, and even possibly may have overreacted, maybe just a wee bit. 

“I wasn’t avoiding you, you ninny. Lord Ramsey was my assignment. I was trying to get my blessing for him done as quickly as possible. You know the fastest way of doing that is the lay of hands.” Aziraphale explained, “With that out of the way, I was then going to ask if you wanted to spend the rest of the evening together. That doesn’t seem very likely now with you like this.”

“But you wouldn’t let me get near you.” Crowley tried to make this not entirely his fault. 

“I could hardly chat up my target with you glowering at him over my shoulder, now could I?” Azirphale explained the obvious to the oblivious. “Do you seriously think I have any interest in the humans here?” 

“...no.” Was the tiny answer from the small snake. It was about all Crowley could come up with. “Oh...”

“Oh, indeed.” Aziraphale smiled fondly down at the thoroughly embarrassed demon. 

“You know the cold makes me...irrational.” Crowley grumbled out his version of an apology. 

“I can’t believe you were jealous of a human simple because I had to dance, badly I might add, with someone of height with red hair.” Azirphale tittered down at the sulking snake. 

“Shut up.” Crowley certainly did not pout, because demons didn’t pout.

“Now that we got all that sorted out, in you go!” meaning that Crowley was returned to the plush confines of the angel’s breasts. 

“Haven’t you already done the blessing? Why aren’t we leaving?” Crowley thought really hard at the angel. 

“I’ve decided to stay.” Aziraphale thought back. 

“But-“ 

“Serves you right for jumping to conclusions.” Aziraphale sniffed. As far as punishments and prisons go, being sequestered into the cradle of the angel’s glorious breasts was not a terrible place to be. Crowley found that he was very content continuing to warm himself up there as he kept track of what was going on the other side of the silk. 

“Where did you rush off to a moment ago? I have to admit that the notion of you leaving made my heart sink down to my boots.” Said someone with a death wish. Crowley risked wiggling up to peek between the excessive ribbon trim on the angel’s bodice. He saw the tall red headed Lord from before, the dead-man-walking trying to chat up his angel again. 

They looked nothing alike, of course, not that it made any difference to Crowley, but Aziraphale tittered softly behind her lace fan in response, causing an onlooker or two to swoon in response.

If Crowley could have rolled his eyes, he would sprained something vital doing so. Azirphale was so oblivious to flirting that the angel could have underwear thrown at their head, and Aziraphale would simply hand it back, all while still talking about their latest literary find. Crowley knew this from firsthand experience. 

Sulking over his lack of limbs, the little snake tucked himself back in between Azirphale’s breast, tunneling deeper. The demon noticed his movements sent the slightest shiver through the angel. 

If snake had lips to smile, Crowley would have grinned as wide as the Cheshire Cat. The Serpent of Eden was getting an idea.

Demons aren’t bound by physics. That was something that Crowley was going to be exploring more very soon as he decided on what species of snake would be the most effective to glide between the angel’s layers, the corset and bodice a solidly constructed thing. In addition, thanks to the crinoline, the series of hoops that gave the gown’s skirt its voluminous shape, Crowley had an entire backstage area to hide behind unnoticed to implement his torment. 

He settled on changing his shape to a species of blunt-headed vine snake, the kind of which were typically found in Ecuador. He picked it because it was known for having a very long thin body, disproportionately slender neck, big eyes, and a rounded head. The snake busied himself by working his way underneath Aziraphale’s undergarments, cool scales gliding over soft fragrant skin.

“Eep!” Was the curious sounds Crowley got from Aziraphale as he wound his length firmly around her breasts. The serpent clenched and unclenched his coils against her soft snowy skin as he slithering into place, giving her a good continuous squeeze.

“My Lady, do you feel ill? You’ve gone quite pale all of a sudden.” Lord Ginger Idiot asked, sounding very concerned to the demon.

“Just caught a sudden chill is all.” Aziraphale laughed nervously from behind her lace fan. “Would you be a dear, and get me something to drink?”

“At once, my Lady!” Crowley hearing the prick tripping off to do just that. 

“Crowley! What the Devil are you playing at!?” Azirphale snapped downward, hiding the one sided conversation behind her fan. Crowley ignored the question, too busy enjoying himself by arranging his length in the shape of the infinity symbol around the captured flesh. The end of his tail spiraled up her right breast, the tip of it hooking around her nipple. Crowley’s other end did the same to the left, the snake’s forked tongue delicately applying itself to the rosy bud there.

“You are bring a...a menace!” Aziraphale groaned, fanning herself as her cheeks grew hot and red. 

“I think I can do better than that.” Crowley promised. 

“My Lady, you look feverish!” Lord Ramsey said upon his return as Aziraphale hastily drank what he had brought her. It was gone so fast, the angel had no clue to what it could have been. 

“I am feeling a touch off.” Aziraphale could barely keep herself from panting, Crowley mercilessly flicking her sensitive nipples with his tongue and tail harder. 

“I will go speak to the host immediately, and find out if you can borrow a room to lie down in.” 

“Thank you, dear. You’re too kind.” Aziraphale said, gulping back a small yelp as Crowley did a rippling movement around her breasts.

“If I were you, I’d leave now, before Lord Wanker comes back.” Crowley warned. Aziraphale only seemed to hesitant for a second before she dashed off. Escaping finally from prying company to the snowed in garden, Aziraphale sequestered herself there. No one would suspect her being there, and she needed to cool down. Aziraphale was pumping out enough heat that Crowley wasn’t bothered by her choice of locations. In fact, it made his next decision all the more easier. 

“You should have found a room. I could have sssspread you out.” 

“I’m not bothered by the cold. I think I’ll stay out here until you go back to sleep.” 

“What an excellent idea.”

Flicking his tongue out, Crowley could taste how wet Aziraphale was, the demon moving onto phase two of his plan. Leaving off her breasts, Crowley slithered south, looping himself once around her waist like a belt for stability. He could feel winter’s chill through the silk, but the demon had no intention of experiencing it again.

With some careful maneuvering, Crowley began to fit his still too cool coils up inside of her, the perfect space of warmth for him in his humble opinion. It left Aziraphale whimpering, the angel bracing herself up against a convenient garden wall to help her stay standing as Crowley adjuster his coils deep inside her. Every movement Crowley made in her caused her legs to tremble, her balance a shaky thing. 

Most of his length embedded up in her, Crowley used his bulbous head to nudge her clit, his forked tongue making quick work of it. The orgasm took Aziraphale off her feet, the angel unable to do anything else, but writhe in the snow as pleasure consumed her. 

Sated, Crowley rested his head on her soft mound, waiting for sleep to come and claim him. “You beast.” Aziraphale panted out was the last thing Crowley heard before he fell into the deep content sleep of the smug.

When Crowley awoke the next time, he found himself to be far more human shaped, in a far more human position. His face nestled between nature’s pillows was a good indication of this.

“You are a vile creature.” Aziraphale told him, marking her place before setting down her book. By the looks of it, it was Charles Dickens’s latest novel. 

“I didn’t hear any complaining.” Crowley said as he looked around. He was currently in a grand four poster canopy bed, laying face down on a female presenting Aziraphale, a rare thing to behold much less lay upon. It didn’t take the demon long to realize that the angel was naked, and that the demon was scrawled out on top of her, just as naked. Crowley lost no time taken further advantage of that, the demon surging up to capture her mouth with his own as his hands found work for themselves down below.

“I forget how much you fancy this form.” Aziraphale sighed out, Crowley’s long clever fingers working in and out of her, every stroke with greater ease than the previous. She was still so wet from before that it was easy work. 

“I want you in every way possible.” Crowley said as he trailed his soaked fingers even more downward.

“You wily old serpent.” Aziraphale teased, feigning ignorance to his intent. “What do you have in mind?”

“Oh, just little of this” Crowley said, rubbing her clit with his thumb to make her moan, fanning his slick fingers to secure other orifices. “And a little of that.” He finished as the demon eased open her other entrance.

“Someone is making quite the effort.” Aziraphale reaching down between them with both hands to confirm what the demon had in mind. Crowley was currently sporting two cocks and a long tail now, his legs fusing together so that he looked more like the naga of legend than human.

“How could I not with you like this?” Crowley growled, positioning the angel’s arms above her head to pin them in place with a black clawed hand. He was really letting himself go this time, black scales that shone like opals trailing down his sharp cheekbones, slender neck, and flexible spine. Crowley knew his eyes would be full serpent, and his forked tongue more slender than before. He was more demon than human at the moment. 

To his continued amazement, Aziraphale couldn’t look more delighted about it. Her milky thighs parted wider to accommodate his new form, deliberately brushing her too warm wetness against his dual cockheads.

Crowley needed no other invitation, making use of his other hand to guide things where they needed to be. Once secure, Crowley sunk in, letting gravity and Aziraphale do most of the work so that he didn’t spontaneous discorporate. 

Instead, he focused on keeping the angel’s hands pinned in place over her head. His other hand was busy doing the work of two, massaging and rolling the nipple of one breast between his talons while his clever tongue worked the other. 

The sensation caused Aziraphale to arch off the bed, barely held in place. The motion made Crowley bury the rest of his lengths in place, the demon muffling his cries in the angel’s ample bosom. The rest of the room was not so lucky, Aziraphale’s true voice shattered glass and mirror to a fine sparkling dust as she cried out from being so full. 

Grinning with too many sharp teeth, Crowley took that moment to roll them over, so that he was on his back with the angel speared into place on his cocks. Clawed hands found the soft curves of her hips keeping her in place as the demon undulated like how only a snake could beneath her. Aziraphale came like that, tightening deliciously all around him. Not one to disappoint, Crowley returned the favor, filling her.

“Oh my, you’re not done with me yet.” Aziraphale said, her mouth finally accepting the presence of words again in it. She shifted experimentally, though sharp talons pressed to sensitive skin kept her from going too far. 

Twisting, Crowley’s answer was to roll them again, Aziraphale pressed face down against the mattress now as Crowley slotted himself back into place. He wrapped his tail around her legs snugly to keep her in place. Thrusting deep and slow into Aziraphale, Crowley grinned as he moved silvery curls out of his way so that the back of her neck was bared to him. 

“Done with you? You silly angel, that was just the amuse-bouche. By the time I’m done with you, you are going to be too full to move.” Crowley said as he laved his tongue over the back of her neck, biting down on the slick skin there. He reached under them, pressed his palm to her soft lower belly as he came again, Aziraphale gasping from the sensation of it. 

“I have quite the appetite.“ Aziraphale panted out as the demon pressed his thumb to an overstimulated clit, her orgasm softer than before, but in multiples this time like a ripple. “Do you really think you’re...up for it?”

“Only one way to find out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Your comments dance with Lord Ramsey, and console him. Your kudos eat all the cake at the party.


	5. And they say chivalry is dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I saved the best for last- BAMF female presenting Aziraphale!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me completing a series. Go me!

“What the Hell is that?”

“Tis a horse, Lady Crowley.” The Duke’s man said with a deep bow and a belittling smirk. Crowley was neither impressed or amused. The Duke’s man assumed she couldn’t see him from behind the thin material the demon used to hide her serpentine eyes with. It never ceased to amaze the demon what humans thought they could get away with when they assumed no one was looking. 

“I can bloody well tell that it’s a horse by the smell of it! What is it doing here?” Crowley demanded, not bothering to hide any hint of her irritation. She had to marry some fat rich little idiot with a ridiculous name who had caught the attention of Hell’s higher ups. To say nonetheless, Crowley was less than thrilled about it.

“The Duke has sent it to take you to the church.” The Duke’s man explained like she were some sort of simpleton. As much as the demon loved this gender, Crowley really hated the burdens and perceived limitations that came with it. 

“Cheap bastard deserves what’s coming to him.” Crowley uncharitable thought as she continued to glare at the horse through her bindings. In turn, the horse was doing its very best to glare back at the demon, both impressive feats on both their parts. 

“My lady, we must hurry if we wish to be there on time.” The Duke’s man insisted, even going so far as to start herding Crowley toward the horse who pranced back a few paces. As much as the demon detested horses, she could appreciate the animal for being smarter than the human behind her. 

“Well, we won’t be because I can’t ride a horse. I was expecting a carriage, or at the very least, a cart.” Crowley said as she dug her heels in as the horse was reigned in closer. They both had an idea of what was about to happen, and its outcome. Whether or not those ideas ran parallel with one another was an entirely different matter. 

“Not to fear, dear lady.” The Duke’s man having the audacity to pick Crowley up. “My steed is the gentlest of animals. Up you go now.”

“What the Hell are you doing?!” Crowley snapped as she was placed over the saddle like a bag of grain, reaffirming her hatred of gender roles. She very much doubted that the Duke’s man would have pulled that crap if Crowley was sporting a penis. “Would you listen to me, you fucking idiot! This is a terrible idea!”

“Be at peace, my lady. I will simply ride...with...you.” The Duke’s man trailed off, his horse taking off like a shot before he even had a chance to finish. 

All while Crowley clung onto the horse’s back for dear life, cussing out the animal she was trapped upon for now, the Duke’s man for being utter prat, and the Duke with the ridiculous name for being so damn cheap. God was mentioned once or twice for good measure. Crowley liked to cover all her bases. 

The enraged horse and their very reluctant rider galloped over hill, and over dale. They passed through woods and fields. They traversed over all sorts of terrain, the horse dead set on getting the demon off of its back by any means necessary. 

“Fuck this for a lark.” Crowley decided miserably, now covered in scratches all over from tree branches, burrs from high grass in fields, and more than a few dead bugs plastered to her fair skin. 

When the horse paused for a breather in a glen of some sort, the demon risked flinging herself off of its back into some reasonably soft looking shrubbery. They were not soft or reasonable.

Free of its burden, the horse tore off again, the whinny in farewell sounding like a high mocking laugh to the demon. 

“I hope something eats you, you nag!” Crowley called after it, though she was secretly grateful that the horse hadn’t decided to stick around. The demon had been trampled before under hoof by many an irate beast of burden. 

Untangling herself out of the brush, blackberry as her luck would have it, Crowley tried to figure out where she was, and if she cared enough to find out. What the demon wanted more than anything right now was a tavern, a tavern with a room that had a proper bed in it, and extraordinary amounts of alcohol well within constant reach.

What Crowley got instead unbidden was a ragtag group of minor demons coming out of the woods. 

“Hail, Satan!” They cried out, mostly in unison. Crowley personally thought their timing needed some work, especially if they were going for some sort of effect. 

“Yeah, hey, guys. What are you lot doing up here?” Crowley asked, not liking how the other demons seemed to be sizing her up. 

“Pay heed! Doing dark deeds!” Legion answered, making Crowley cringe. Apparently, Legion had been up here long enough up top to learn that humans believed that demons could only speak in rhymes. Crowley wondered what other ridiculous expectations Legion adhered to. 

It was an odd period of time to live in. What would be later known as the Dark Ages was marked by angels and demons freely walking upon the Earth, basically doing whatever they liked. 

To make matters worse, Lucifer had taken it upon himself to try and create demons from scratch, having once been the LightBringer. Some things just don’t carry over though. What Hell got were these lesser beings that had to work collectively together to function as one, a singular consciousness spread out across multiple bodies. Lucifer had labeled them as Legion. The rest of Hell referred to them as Disposable. 

While they weren’t normally a menace, this particular Legion demon outnumbered Crowley 10 to 1. She didn’t particularly care for those odds, or how the demons were eyeing her up. Hell had a pecking order. Demon climbed their way up it by getting rid of the competition. Legion looked as if they were considering getting themselves a promotion. 

Normally, Crowley could talk her way out of anything, but the downside to that was the other party had to be engaged. Legion was not.

“I’m on assignment. If you’re not here to help out with that, then piss off!” Crowley fell back to Plan B, which was falsely confident bravado.

“You are meat! Time to eat!” Legion cried, drawing out their weapons as they advanced. 

“This day has really gone to shit.” Crowley muttered, readying herself. She was confident that she could destroy them, but she had to do that ten times. Legion only had to do it once. 

“Oh my goodness!” Was a sudden gasp that made all the demons look up and over. A nun stood at the edge of the glen, holding a basket full of freshly gathered herbs and flowers. Crowley’s jaw dropped despite herself when the nun caught her eye.

The blue skinned Celts had worshiped her as Danu. The Greeks toasted wine to her as Gaia. In their days, the Akkadians, Babylonians, and Assyrians gave offerings to her as Ishtar. It wasn’t often that Aziraphale decided to walk the Earth in female form, but when she did, it left an impact. 

“More meat! We all shall eat!” Legion yelled, making Crowley sigh. She did her best to not look too embarrassed by her coworkers. 

“Well, that was unfortunate.” Aziraphale said, making a face at Legion’s lack of originality. 

“You have no idea. I want to strangle the idiot human who came up with the idea of Hell only speaking in rhyme.” Crowley said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“What are they doing now?” Aziraphale asked too calmly for Legion’s liking. 

“I believe they intend to eat us, but they haven’t quite worked out how to do that just yet.” Crowley said, realizing that Legion had no idea what or who they were getting ready to attack.

“We chop, chop, chop!” Was Legion’s battlecry. “Then, into the pot!”

“Good Lord, that doesn’t even rhyme.” Aziraphale said, looking more upset about that than the demon reaching clawed hands for her. She dissuaded the demon of this notion by head butting it so hard that its skull caved in. As the body fell away, Aziraphale freed its sword from the scabbard in one smooth motion as she set her basket down off to the side for safekeeping. 

And then the real fun began. 

Legion left off Crowley to advance toward the greater threat, the dead demon obviously taken all the group’s brain cells with him. Crowley watched in awe as the angel strolled through the melee with a casual nonchalantness, like Aziraphale’s face wasn’t masked black with demon’s blood. 

The next demon swung his sword, a great arching movement to have his arm shorn clean off. He was then used quite efficiently as a shield, his brethren skewering him instead of the angel. Having served his use, Aziraphale cut her meat shield down, kicking his corpse into another demon. The force of it sent the both of them flying across the glen, only stopped going any further into the forest by a sturdy oak tree. 

The next demon made the mistake of getting within Aziraphale’s reach, the angel brutally efficient as she grabbed its head to slam it clean off on her knee. 

With an elegance and grace befitting an angel, Aziraphale made her way toward Crowley as if she were taking a stroll through steel and the occasional sprinkle of blood rain, the demon doing her best not to tremble. Others would have mistaken it for fear, but nothing could be further from the truth of it. Crowley was actually getting uncomfortably wet, her thighs shifting easily from it as she clenched them.

“M’Lady.” Aziraphale greeted, her pale eyes lingering over certain nuisances of Crowley.

The last surviving demon was trying to make a runner for it. The angel left off her gazing just long enough to set her borrowed sword ablaze before chucking it like a spear at the dead demon running. It impaled the demon through his torso, the rest of him incinerated in an instant.

“Sister.” Crowley greeted back, doing the same the best she could from behind her bindings. 

“By the looks of it, you’re getting married.” Aziraphale said, examining the beautifully embroidered white dress. Her eyes especially lingered over the heavily decorated belt that emphasized the sharpness of the demon’s hips. The sparkle of jewels upon it drew the eye there to hold it.

“And you’ve taken the black. Looks good on you.” Crowley purred out, her voice rich with appreciation. The way the dark woolen clothe clung to the angel’s voluminous curves was practically a sin. The demon wondered how the other nuns got anything done while Aziraphale was around them, looking like temptation incarnate. 

“Same. You look simply stunning in white.” Aziraphale said, licking her lips without even realizing it. Crowley’s wild ride had completely freed her hair from its covering and bindings. It hung in free form all about her, a riot of fiery curls made all the more glossy and bright when backed by white. 

“Don’t get any ideas. It’s coming off.” Crowley had meant it as a protest, but it came out more as a come on. 

“I should hope so. From what I understand, that’s how honeymoons work.” Aziraphale said with a little smirk and a bastard twinkle in her eye. 

“I’m not sleeping with that vile little man.” That came out softer than Crowley meant to make it, almost like she were apologizing.

“I know. I’ve made sure of that.” Aziraphale said, much to the demon’s surprise. 

“What? How?” Crowley startled into staring at Aziraphale, who looked quite smug about whatever she had done to the demon’s intended. Crowley loved it when the angel surprised her, even after all these millennia. 

“While transcribing some text, I might have overheard the priest talking about how he was to wed Duke SoggyBottom to the blind Lady Crowley, whose lack of child bearing hips were cause for great concern.” Aziraphale said as she tugged playfully at those worried over hips. 

“Lovely.” Crowley grumbled, blinking at the late spring sunshine as Aziraphale removed the bindings from over her eyes. 

“There you are.” Aziraphale smiled, dazzling the demon. 

“Here I am.” Crowley murmured, tugging the lopsided wimple free from the angel’s hair. Her pale hair tumbled down her back like spilled starlight, silvery and light. Crowley couldn’t resist gathering it up in her hands, twisting and combing her fingers through the finest silk she had ever come across. “Lovely this.”

“Allow me to take care of your own. You’ve collected quite a few things in your curls. I fear birds will start taking a vested interest in it.” Aziraphale said as she miracled up a wide toothed comb, and a blanket for them to sit comfortably upon. They did so partially under a tree, Crowley sitting in the sun while Aziraphale preferred the cool shade. 

Sectioning the fiery locks hair, Aziraphale took her time with it, patiently working out the burrs, knots, and with such great care so that she didn’t tug or pull at the demon’s skull.

Crowley enjoyed the warmth, watching as the glen began to fill up with butterflies and small birds. The angel naturally drew the fauna to them. If Aziraphale took it upon herself to start singing, Crowley knew that they would soon have the beginning of a zoo.

“You can lie down if you want to.” Was barely registered by Crowley. 

“Mmmmm.”

“Dear, if you keep leaning to the side like that, you’re going to topple over. Lie down for me please.” Aziraphale said a bit more firmly this time as she gently tugged Crowley back to aid in this. The demon found that the angel’s lap made for an excellent pillow. Crowley gave into sleep as soon as her cheek met thigh. 

The next time the demon breathed in deep on a more conscious level, Crowley became intoxicated by Aziraphale’s scent.

“Did you have a nice nap?” The angel above her asked. Aziraphale really did look good in black, but then again, Crowley thought she looked good in anything when she was like this, all soft in the right places.

“MmmmHmmm.” Was about all Crowley could thing to say. Her hair was, indeed, beautifully braided now. “Are you ever going to get around to telling me what you did to the Duke?”

“Ah yes...well, he has taken it upon himself to give up all his worldly possessions, and become a pious monk of a silent order.” Aziraphale told her, that smug little smile Crowley lived for returning in full force.

“Aziraphale, you didn’t!” Crowley grinned, that smirk only widening.

“I most certainly did. My report states that I was simply removing an important pawn of Hell off of the playing field by inspiring a devout religious calling in him. That it simply wouldn’t do for him to wed such a wily adversary.” Aziraphale said, “There is no telling what you could have tempted him into doing for Hell’s agenda.”

“Joining a silent order of monks seems a little extreme though, don’t you think?”

“I may have overheard some of his intentions in regard to you as well.” Aziraphale sniffed primly as she adjusted her clothing. She miracled away all the blood and gore she had acquired during her stroll. 

“Oh really? How noble it was of you to come to my aid then.” Crowley said, batting her eyelashes at the angel who gave her an unimpressed look back. “Should I be inquiring what your intention are toward me?”

“Pure as the driven snow, I assure you.” Aziraphale stated like it was the most obvious thing in the world. The demon knew better.

“You better say some Hail Marys for that lie. You’ve been leering at me this entire time.” Crowley teased.

“Me? Leer? Don’t be absurd.” Aziraphale huffed, or at least tried to, Crowley not making it easy. The demon trailed her fingertips up and down the angel’s arms ,and over her shoulders and back as Crowley circled Aziraphale. 

“Careful, angel. Your eyes have picked up on your appetite.” Crowley said, leaning in to whisper in the angel’s ear. 

“It’s your own fault for looking like a feast.” Aziraphale finally broke as a visible shiver ran through the angel. The demon finished her rotation, the two facing each other now with barely any space left between them. 

“You want to talks about feasts? Your cups runneth over here.” Crowley said as she reached to demonstrate how poorly the humble material hid the angel’s natural wealth. 

“Won’t somebody be looking for you?” Aziraphale gasped out, making no move to convince Crowley to quit her explorations. She snapped her wards into place for good measure though. No one from Hell, or human would bother them.

“I could ask you the very same thing.” Crowley whispered into a perfect seashell ear that was turning redder with every stroke and pinch. Snapping her own wards into place, the demon had not intention of letting Heaven intrude upon them either. 

Patience wasn’t one of Aziraphale’s virtues today. The white dress was gently torn off of a Crowley’s body, ethereal strength rendering it apart like it were made of tissue paper. 

“You mustn’t have liked that much then to have done that.” Crowley managed to say before words became too hard to form. Her back hit the ground, cushioned by the blanket, the demon’s body being adorned and plundered at the same time by an enthusiastic angel as Aziraphale settled herself in between Crowley’s long slender legs. 

Crowley’s female figure was just as rake thin as her male form. It was just sharper in different places. Crowley like to keep her hair long in this form, the curls of it hanging down well past her waist. Her breasts were barely there mounds of softness, delicate and well shaped. Her small pink nipples were already beginning to pebble from the sudden chill of being bared.

“Impatient, are we...!” Crowley smirked to end up clamping a hand over her mouth. Aziraphale was treating the demon’s clit like was the last dessert on Earth. 

Mercilessly, Aziraphale laved her tongue over silken folds, parting them so that she could lick up to the clit, ignoring the sharp hands digging deep into her silvery hair. With a smile, Aziraphale pursed her lips to suck just in the right spot, making those hands fly up and away so that Crowley could muffle her cries in them. 

Parting more flesh with her immaculate hands, Aziraphale began to lap, broad flat firm strokes of tongue, swirling out words with its tip to make Crowley’s body quake, and her voice run ragged.

“Angel, angel, angel, please,” Crowley begged, not knowing what she was begging for. “I’m going to come!”

“Which is entirely the point, my dear.” Aziraphale said deliberately low in vibration to Crowley’s flesh as she added in pressure from her fingers just right. The angel held Crowley in place as she rode out her pleasure, Aziraphale’s tongue catching all that she could, the demon’s taste a heady mixture of smoke, rain, and meat.

Traveling up Crowley’s limp, still twitching body, Aziraphale blazed a trail of kisses to Crowley’s slack mouth, taking a special detour for her sensitive nipples. Crowley could taste herself on the angel’s lips and tongue, Aziraphale making a second meal of the demon’s mouth. 

“Stand up.” Crowley said as soon as she was allowed to. Smiling, Aziraphale did as she was bid. As good as the angel looked in black, Crowley decided that there was a time and place for it, but this exact moment wasn’t it. 

Letting her hands end in black tipped, hellishly sharp claws, the demon cut away the clothe from Aziraphale’s body with delicate care. Crowley sank down to her knees as the angel’s clothing fell off and away.

The Romans had known her as Vesta, goddess of the hearth, where all stories were told. She was Venus to Crowley though, the demon worshiping the angel with her mouth and tongue. 

“C-Crowley darling, you can’t expect me to stay standing while you do that!” Aziraphale stammered out, swaying in place as Crowley did something unusual with her forked tongue. It made the angel tremble, threatening to topple over. 

“Not at all. I wouldn’t be doing it right if you could.” Crowley said as she paused long enough to help ease Aziraphale down onto her back. The demon didn’t stay still long, pulling something she remembered into reality.

“What are those?” Aziraphale asked, Crowley now holding in hand two beautifully carved jade eggs. 

“Just a little something I picked up last time while I was in Asia.” Crowley grinned as she tested how wet the angel was, her fingers sliding in and out with ease. “You’re going to love this next bit.”

Taking the first egg, the smaller of the two, Crowley placed it to Aziraphale’s entrance, taking turns between watching it press into the angel’s body and her reaction to the toy. It was hard to pick which view was more gratifying, especially when Aziraphale’s head fell back with a gasp. 

The second bigger egg followed until it was all the way in, Aziraphale feeling full from it. Pressed the angel’s thighs together, Crowley guided them in a circular rocking motion. It caused a series of strange noises from Aziraphale as she clutched at the blanket.

“These are Ben-wa-eggs.” Crowley said, working in her hand so that it was sandwiched between Aziraphale’s pillowy thighs. 

“They’re brilliant!” Aziraphale panted out. It didn’t take long for the angel to come when the demon’s clever fingers worked her clit over along with the motions, the pressure and movement from the Ben-wa-eggs driving her hard to it. 

Pleased with her handiwork, Crowley eased Aziraphale’s legs down so that she could crawl up between them. Face first, she made her home in the angel’s magnificent breasts, so soft and plush that Crowley toyed with the idea of taking another nap. Aziraphale tugging her up the rest of the way to pressed their lips together dissuaded her of this notion. 

It was a softer affair this time round, Aziraphale lingering over Crowley’s mouth as if she was trying to memorize every nuance of it.

“Now that you’ve deflowered me, are you planning on making an honest woman of me?” Crowley said, because she had to ruin this sweet peace before she started to believe in it. She meant it to be light hearted, but the way Aziraphale was looking at her, so intent, made the rest of her joke die on her tongue.

“Get in touch me if Hell ever makes you wear white again. Promise me.” Aziraphale said with an odd intensity that unsettled Crowley. This was important to the angel.

“Yes, all right, fine.” Crowley said quickly, “Can’t stand to see me wear it now? Where did all that love go?”

Aziraphale took her time in answering, picking up Crowley’s left hand to press a kiss to his bare ring finger.

“You wear it well, but you must only wear it for me, and no other.”

“I promise, angel. I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Your comments bury the disposable demons. Your kudos steal Aziraphale’s flower basket for reasons.


	6. How many men escaped the destruction of Sodom?  A Lot.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> YOU GET A BONUS CHAPTER!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How it got established

“What are you doing?”

Aziraphale did his best not to react to the sudden intrusion upon him by the archangel Gabriel.

“I’m blending in. Humans go to market, and buy things, like food.” Aziraphale told him, Gabriel staring down at his very full basket. It was laden with wine, baked goods, and a great number of pears. 

“Huh, weird but okay. What do you do with the food afterward?” Gabriel said, making a face. He didn’t like being on Earth, surrounded by all these sweaty smelly humans with their piles of stuff that also smelled. Gabriel wondered why everything on Earth had to have an odor anyway, and even more so about how Aziraphale could stand being around all these smells day in and day out. 

“I eee...I eventually give it away,” The First Liar lied, “To the needy.”

‘I eventually give it away to the needy’ was Aziraphale’s fancy way of saying that he fed the birds around his home bread when it got too stale for his tastes.

“Good news then! You don’t have to worry about doing that here much longer.” Gabriel said with a confidence that was worrisome. 

“Why is that?” Aziraphale prompted after the dramatic pause lingered a little too long. The angel held back a sigh at the archangel’s conversational theatrics as he tried not to panic. He resisted the thought that they might want him back in Heaven. 

“Sodom and Gomorrah are slated for total annihilation by smiting in like a decade or so.” Was not the answer Aziraphale was expecting.

”What’s happening in the next ten years to prompt that?” Aziraphale asked, perplexed.

“Ten years? No, a much much shorter amount of time than that. It’s happening...soon-ish.” Gabriel said, not bothering to admit that he’d forgotten the correct human’s terms for increments of time. ”So wrap up what you need to do, and go to your next posting. You’re going to same place called Wessex to inspire the humans to build some sort of a stone structure. Make it happen.”

And with that, the archangel left as suddenly as he arrived, leaving Aziraphale confused and concerned with his new assignment in hand. Confused because he had no idea when this current event would be happening, and concerned because he had just left Crawley’s company at the crossroads between Sodom and Gomorrah over a day ago. He hadn’t seen which way the demon had decided to go. 

Abandoning his shopping to quickly leave the market, Aziraphale made his way to the crossroads between the sister cities. He had to find Crawley, and he needed to do it quickly before it was too late. There was a ticking clock counting down, and Aziraphale had no idea if it were in double or single digits of hours, minutes, or Heaven forbid, seconds.

The angel reasoned it was safe to assume that he didn’t have time to check both cities. He would have to pick one, but which one? When it came down to brass tacks, Aziraphale knew time wasn’t on his side, but he did have a way. It would require sacrifice if he wanted it to work though. It would ruin his greatest possession, really his only possession, but it was the only thing the angel could think of doing. 

Combing through his plush white down feathers, Aziraphale plucked out what he had nestled there, keeping it safe from notice or harm. A single small black feather from the demon’s own wing was being now cradled in the angel’s palm. It had been lost in Eden when Crawley changed from being a snake to his more human form for the first time. The angel has discovered it after the two of them had parted ways, down in the Garden under the Tree.

Aziraphale didn’t know why he decided to keep it, even go so far as to cherish it. He had meant to give it back. He should have many, many time before when he ran into Crawley. Quite a few of their assignments ran parallel to one another. He’d had every opportunity to do so.

Every now and again when he was sure that no one was watching him, Aziraphale would bring the feather out to study it, loving all the hidden colors buried deep in the black. He would preen it, and keep it oiled. It had been a part of his own left wing for over a thousand years. 

Deeply saddened, and yet not knowing why because it was just a feather, but remaining resolute, Aziraphale concentrated on the little black feather with great intent and purpose. He deconstructed it bit by bit until it was just a floating speck of dark energy, the barest iota of Crawley’s true being. Freed from its organic confines, it would return to its source, Aziraphale following it out into the world. The only issue was the angel didn’t expect it to work so well.

Winging after the dark speck, Aziraphale tried to keep up the best he could with it. “Slow down, you little rascal!” Aziraphale yelled after it. He couldn’t risk losing sight of it. He needed to know if he was flying left or right at the crossroads. For a moment, Aziraphale lost track of it, the angel panicking. 

“No, no, no! Where are you?! I need you!” Aziraphale cried out, flinging himself toward the crossroads. He couldn’t risk pausing to look around, and the angel knew that the speck was ahead of him somewhere. 

Against all odds, Aziraphale found it, just hanging in air like it was waiting for him to catch up. It hung a left as soon as the angel noticed it, speeding off again. 

“Sodom it is then! Tally ho!” Aziraphale called after it, risking it all as he unfurled his second pair of wings. 

Angels were only supposed to sport the one pair if they had multiple. Celestial presences on Earth tended to overload human senses on a horrific level, and somewhat disrupted the fabric of this reality. A very stern memo had gone out all over Heaven about it.

From his perspective, Aziraphale knew that Sodom, Gomorrah, and everything else in between them were doomed. He reasoned out that any humans who inadvertently had their eyes melted out of their head would be spared the sight of Heaven being pulled down to annihilate them. 

The closer he got to the city, the more he could sense Crawley. To the angel’s relief, the demon was at an inn where they had dined together before. Pulling in his wings to hit the ground running, Aziraphale rushed into the inn, ignoring the humans’ reaction to his landing.

“Crawley! Where are you?!” Aziraphale yelled as he burst into the inn’s lower level. It was a nice place. Aziraphale greatly enjoyed how they prepared goat here. It would be missed. 

“I am literally three feet away from you. Why are you yelling? What’s with all the screaming outside?” Crawley answered as he tried to peek over the angel’s shoulder to see what all the commotion was about. 

“We have to leave! Now!” Aziraphale said, grabbing Crawley by his arm to pull him outside.

“Did you do all this?!” Crawley asked, looking aghast. Aziraphale noted that he had not landed gently, or even really paid attention to his surroundings when he did. 

There were deep furrows in the ground from his feet, the impact site looking like an asteroid’s crater. The surroundings buildings had gouge marks from his wings, angel’s feather meant for defensive and offensive purposes. There was nothing sharper or more durable in all of creation than an angel’s feather. Aziraphale’s wings had cut through the stone structures like a hot knife through butter.

To his own personal horror and relief, no humans appeared to be dead, but there were a great many who were injured, getting a leg up head start toward Heaven’s Gates. Reminding himself that the city and all its inhabitants were doomed, Aziraphale made himself look away. There was nothing he could do for them. 

“Never mind them! We need to leave!” Aziraphale said, tugging at Crawley’s arm again.

“What do you mean ‘never mind them’? I’m not going anywhere until-“ Crawley didn’t get to finish that sentence. Mostly because Aziraphale scooped the demon up into his arms, like Crawley was some troublesome bride throwing a tantrum. The stunned demon noted that angel carried him like Crawley weighed nothing, even when Aziraphale began running. 

This close to the angel, Crawley could see how scared yet determined Aziraphale looked, noting how tightly he held onto Crawley. The demon had no idea what was going on, but his gut was telling him to go with Aziraphale, and to not hinder the angel in any way. 

As soon as he got the room, finding it in a convenient city square, Aziraphale released both pairs of his wings, instantly blinding any humans who laid eyes upon him. Their departure was marked by panicked screams. Aziraphale knew that there would be more to come. 

Time was of the essence. Feeling a great shift in Heaven, Aziraphale pulled more of his true nature into this world. Covering his eyes with a gasp, Crawley tried to avoid looking directly at Aziraphale’s halo as it came into full view. Eyes opened up all along the arms that held the demon so close that his bones creaked, Crawley sensing the angel amping up to do something big. That something was to take off like a comet, Earth experiencing its first sonic boom.

Curious, really too curious for his own good, Crawley peeked over Aziraphale’s shoulder in time to see the sky open up into a vortex of light and noise, beginning to fall upon the sister cities. The multiple swarming points of blinding brightness falling toward Sodom and Gomorrah were entire choirs of angels, the demon hearing their beautiful terrible songs of triumph and glory to God being called out as they descended.

Gomorrah was the first to go, pure white hot Grace pummeling into the city. It was obliterated with great light and sound, the noise of it deafening. The power from the Heaven’s distain upon Gomorrah disrupted the air itself, sending a ripple of force outward. It was strong enough to affect even an angel in flight, Aziraphale spinning off course from it. He was still desperately trying to get them as far away as possible. It wasn’t over. God was making an example, and She never half assed those. The Flood had been proof enough of that. 

The turbulence forced Aziraphale to land, the angel still cradling Crawley tightly to his chest as he looked around for cover. There was no time, Aziraphale hearing the choirs beginning their advances on Sodom. 

Turning his back to take the brunt of what was to come, Aziraphale fell to his knees to plant them in the ground as he bodily curled himself over Crawley so that the demon was his new center. He wrapped his wings tightly around them, creating a feathered cocoon.

They did not have to wait long. The angel and demon more felt Sodom’s destruction rather than heard it. An angel’s wings were their greatest weapons, but also their greatest defense. It didn’t hurt either that Aziraphale had been the official Guardian of the Eastern Gate, the Principality of Eden, and the Tree of Knowledge’s Protector. 

He had done a terrible job at all of them, but that wasn’t due to anything on a physical level. All those jobs required a heavyweight hitter kind of angel so Aziraphale knew that he could withstand a great deal, and right now he was using his true nature and function to save Crawley from total annihilation. Struck by the fallout, Aziraphale held steady, only shifting a bit with a grunt as Heaven’s wrath washed over him like a tsunami. Anything infernal in nature would have been vaporized. 

It was lit within from Aziraphale’s halo, the angel toning it down for the sake of Crawley’s eyes. The demon was watching Aziraphale’s face, the angel’s eyes closed in concentration as the ground shook beneath them with a terrible force. Crawley couldn’t decide if it made it better or worse that they couldn’t really listen in on to what was happening outside. All that the demon could hear was their own unnecessary breathing. He could also feel Aziraphale’s rabbit heart beating in his chest. 

Unable to help himself, Crawley flicked out his forked tongue to taste the angel on the limited air between them. As he was like this, with all the human burned away, Aziraphale’s true essence was a combination of indescribable things. 

There was the sweetness of happiness, the tang of fear, the bright saltiness of sorrow, and the lingering bitterness of anger. Aziraphale tasted of light and love, of warmth and comfort, of sadness and regret. These were all flavors that lingered on Crawley’s forked tongue, flavors without any real descriptors. 

“What just happened?” Crowley whispered as Aziraphale minutely shifted here and there all around him. 

“My best guess? It feels like we’ve been buried. The force of it shifted quite a bit of earth over us.” Aziraphale sighed, finally opening his eyes to look over at the demon. 

Aziraphale looked tired, very tired and very scared. 

Crawley always had a head full of questions. Right now was no exception to this, but which one to choose from. He was still alive because Aziraphale had come for him. He hadn’t let demon argue himself to death. 

This was unprecedented. 

Yeah, they shared wine over a fire every once in a while, and acknowledged each other in passing, but this wasn’t professional comradeship. 

This was like before on the Ark, and yet not. At the time, Crawley had been saving children from drowning so of course, the demon reasoned out, the angel would feel the need to rescue the demon then, because he had earned it. This time around though, Crawley hadn’t done anything to merit this sort of rescue. 

Angels certainly weren’t supposed to save demons. They also weren’t supposed to give away their weapons either though.

Emboldened by this, Crawley would have tried out more question, but he was beginning to notice that his cloak was getting quite wet. It took Crawley a moment to realize that Aziraphale was silently crying, golden tinted tears hot against the demon’s skin as they soaked through the dark material of his robe.

“Aziraphale?” Crawley wasn’t sure what to do. 

“All those humans.” The angel shuddered out, his teeth knocking into each other with a rattle. “All those humans, and I save a demon.”

“Yes. Yes, you did.” Crawley said carefully as his protection trembled all around him.

“I could have saved a baby, but I didn’t.”

“Not that I’m complaining, but why didn't you?” Crawley asked, hoping that this wasn’t the question that got him smited. He knew why. The demon wanted to hear the angel say it aloud, just once, was willing to press his luck to find out.

“I have no idea why. I just needed to.” Aziraphale lied as he touched his head to the demon’s own, keeping mindful of his halo. “I know you. I didn’t know them. All I could think about was you. That is what it came down to. I couldn’t save them, but I could possibly save you if I was quick enough.”

“Luckily, you were.” Crowley said, “Why did Sodom and Gomorrah have to fall to ruin?”

“They were deemed unworthy, all of them.” Aziraphale said tightly, “God sent some angels, Micheal and Uriel I believe, to both cities to find out if there were any righteous humans living there. Apparently, they found none.”

“Not one? Not one child, or newborn free of sin?” Crawley said in disbelief. “Not one?”

“Their reports stated with the exception of Lot and his family that there were no other humans worth sparing.” Aziraphale said, handing off the summary and reassignment he had received from Gabriel earlier in the day. 

“This is insane! Why didn’t they send you?! Someone who’s familiar with the Earth and its humans!” Crawley said, crumbling up the report. He resisted the urge to incinerate it, not wanting to risk the angel to hellfire while in such close proximity.

“I don’t know! I don’t make the decisions!” Aziraphale said, frustrated and unable to shake the feeling that Michael and Uriel hadn’t tried very hard at all to find any decent humans.

There had been. Aziraphale and Crawley both knew this. In Sodom, innkeeper and his lovely wife who was the phenomenal cook behind the goat dish had been kind. The fruit vendor in Gomorrah who Crowley had bought pears and apples from had been a good man who ran a fair business.  
The children who had danced with the demon and angel alike at some festival should have been allowed to live out the rest of their lives. 

“All those humans...” Crawley said with a heaviness that only came from being around for millennia. 

“All those humans.” Said the angel who was beginning to lose his religion. Fine cracks were beginning to form in his bedrock.

“This is more what you’d expect my lot would I do.”

“Mmm-Hmm.”

“How did you find me so quickly?” Crawley asked, his mind made for questions as he assessed and weighed Aziraphale’s words. They had more value to him than anything this brave new world full of potential could invent.

“I had a feather of yours.”

“How’d you manage that? I thought I got back all the ones from the Ark you pulled out.” Crawley said with askance, like he didn’t horde his own stash of white feathers. 

“You left it in the Garden.”

“The Garden of Eden?!”

“Yes. That one.” Aziraphale said in a very small voice. He closed his eyes, all of them, wishing that Crawley’s stare wasn’t three inches from his face.

“Aziraphale...” was what made the angel reopen them, the demon saying his name in a odd tone of voice. “Aziraphale, you’ve been carrying around one of my feathers for over a thousand years?”

“Well, not anymore. I had to use it all up to find you.” Aziraphale worried, “I’m sorry. I know I should have given it back.”

The rest of the angel’s apology was smothered dead by the kiss Crawley pressed into Aziraphale’s lips. The demon found they were still as soft as they looked, tasting salty sweet from tears and whatever Aziraphale’s had had for lunch earlier in the day. 

“I don’t know what this is.” Aziraphale when they finally parted, the demon feeling the angel tremble all around him. “I’m scared.”

“I don’t know what it is either, but do you want to find out together?” Crawley asked, cupping the angel’s face with his hands so that he could press kisses to gold tinted wet cheeks. Crawley had an idea about what was beginning to take shape between them. He’d known since the Ark, since the Wall, from the very moment of ‘I gave it away!’.

And then they were kissing again. It was a very human thing to do, and they only done it couple of times after their tryst in the Ark. They found that practice made perfect.

“You could Fall.” It was Crawley this time who parted them with worry.

“Real feather in your wing if I did.” Aziraphale said, a strange little smile playing out on his face 

“That’s quite the blasé attitude to have about it.” Crawley said sharply. 

“Hardly. Can I tell you a secret in confidence?” Aziraphale waited until the demon finally nodded. “I lied to God.”

“YOU WHAT?!” Crawley said too loudly for being so close to one another, but he felt it was merited.

“I didn’t mean to. It just sort of happened.” Aziraphale tried to explain. 

“How?! How do you just sort of lie to God?!” Crawley couldn’t wait for the explanation on this. 

“Well, I just did.”

“And you’re still an angel?”

“I’m certainly not an aardvark.” Aziraphale said dryly as his halo came into full view.

“Turn that thing down before I go blind.” Crawley growled, “Point taken. Unbelievable. I got kicked out just for asking a few questions.”

“That’s why you Fell?”

“Yes. That, and I got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time with even worse company. How in the nine rings of Hell do you get to lie boldfaced to God, and still remain an angel?”

“Ah, yes, sorry.” Aziraphale said, tearing up again. “I don’t know why I haven’t fallen. I really am a bad angel.”

“Shut up. You’re the furthest thing from it. You’re a stupid angel for putting yourself down like that, but I promise you, you’re a good angel, the best kind.” Crawley tried to soothe. He hated it when Aziraphale cried, and the demon hated himself more when he was the cause of it.

“But I keep making all these mistakes. I do things angels aren’t supposed to do.” Aziraphale fretted. He would have continued to do so, but then his head was turned, cupped by gentle hands as Crawley made the angel look at him. 

“Aziraphale, why did you give the humans your sword?” Crawley asked, waiting patiently for the angel’s answer.

“You know why. I told you up in the wall.” 

“Humor me.”

“They were cold and defenseless. Eve and Adam had only known the comfort and protection of the Garden. They needed it.” Aziraphale said as the demon kissed the tears off of his cheeks.

“Why did you lie to God?”

“I didn’t want to risk my sword being taken away from them.”

“Why did you go back for the children?”

“I was a little late on that. You beat me to it.” Aziraphale pointed out, giving credit where it was due.

“Fine then, the unicorn. Why’d you go back for it?”

“It was a poor defenseless animal that didn’t deserve to perish because Shem couldn’t be bothered to keep a proper eye on it.”

“Angel, why did you come looking for me?”

“Because I love...oh! Oh dear...” Aziraphale caught off guard enough to answer honestly before he realized what he was actually admitting to. “Oh God...”

“Don’t bring her into this. We’re in enough trouble as it is.” Crawley sighed, resting their foreheads together.

“Oh Crawley, if Hell ever found out...” Aziraphale was crying again, “They would destroy you.”

“Yeah, if I’m lucky. Probably keep me around a while to make an example of me.” Which was exactly the wrong thing to say, the demon’s bones creaking again from the force of the angel’s embrace, Aziraphale burying his face on the lean crook of Crawley’s neck. “I doubt Heaven would be lenient on you.”

“What are we going to do?” It hurt Crawley to hear Aziraphale sound so helpless. 

“Anything we want.” The demon decided.

“Pardon?” Aziraphale looking up to stare. 

“Think about it. I’m a demon who can still love, and you’re an angel who can’t Fall. We’ll be clever. We’ll be careful. We’ll stay here on Earth. They’ve got wine, and they’re really coming along with this cheese thing. We certainly don’t want to miss out on that. We’ll dig ourselves in like...like things that dig themselves into places.”

“But they’ll notice.”

“The only thing they’ll notice is if we don’t keep up with the paperwork. Real sticklers about that.”

“As so Below as so Above, in this instance at least, my dear.” Aziraphale muddled through, “It could work?”

“It could work!” Crawley said with far more confidence than Aziraphale was actually feeling, but the angel was starting to warm up to the idea. 

“It could work.” Aziraphale repeated softly to himself. “Well, I be damned.”

“It’s not so bad when you get used to it.” Crawley winked, the angel giving him an exasperated look back. 

“As much as I would love to stay here like this forever with you. I believe we should get going.” Aziraphale sighed, even as some part of him found the idea of holding Crawley like this to the End of Days had a certain appeal. Just the two of them hiding from Heaven and Hell.

“Do you really mean that?” Crawley asked, his heart in his throat threatening to choke him out.

“Oh my darling, I really do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Your comments turn left to Sodom. Your kudos turn right to Gomorrah.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Your comments decide to stay at the party, and gets trashed with Marie Antoinette. Your kudos don’t think her comment about cake is going to go over too well.


End file.
